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There I see another

Face beside of hers!
Looking in the river,

Close beside her own,
There I see another

Face in shadow thrown;
Looking in the river,

Just behind the maid,
There I see her lover

In the maple shade!
Looking in the river,

Now I understand
Why the little maiden

Stands upon the land.
Looking in the river

With her other self,
Stands the little maiden

On a mossy shelf ;
Looking in the river-

Maiden, never run!
That's a thing, I'm certain,

All of us have done;
Looking in the river

All of us have been,
And can tell the summer

We remember, when,
Looking in the river,

By the shadow thrown,
We have seen another

Face beside our own.

A SNOW-STORM IN VERMONT.

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"Tis a fearful night in the Winter-time,

As cold as it ever can be :
The roar of the storm is heard like the chime

Of the waves of an angry sea.
The moon is full, but the wings to-night
Of the furious blast dash out her light;
And over the sky, from south to north,
Not a star is seen as the storm come forth

In the strength of a mighty glee.

All day had the snow come down—all day,

As it never came down before,
Till over the ground, at sunset, lay

Some two or three feet or more.
The fence was lost, and the wall of stone;
The windows blocked and the well-curb gone ;
The haystack rose to a mountain lift;
And the woodpile looked like a monster drift,

As it lay by the farmer's door.

As the night set in, came wind and hail,

While the air grew sharp and chill, And the warning roar of a fearful gale

Was heard on the distant hill; And the norther! see, on the mountain peak In his breath how the old trees writhe and shriek ; He shouts on the plain, Ho! ho ! He drives from his nostrils the blinding snow,

And growls with a savage will !

Such a night as this to be found abroad !

In the hail and the freezing air,
Lies a shivering dog, in the field by the road,

With the snow on his shaggy hair.
As the wind drives, see him crouch and growl
And shut his eyes with a dismal howl;
Then, to shield himself from the cutting sleet,
His nose is pressed on his quivering feet :-

Pray, what does the dog do there?
An old man came from the town to-night,

But he lost the travelled way;
And for hours he trod with main and might

A path for his horse and sleigh ;
But deeper still the snow-drifts grew,
And colder still the fierce wind blew;
And his mare-a beautiful Morgan brown-
At last o'er a log had floundered down,

That deep in a hollow lay.

Many a plunge, with a frenzied snort,

She made in the heavy snow;

And her master urged, till his breath grew short,

With a word and a gentle blow; But the snow was deep, and the tugs were tight His hands were numb, and had lost their might; So he struggled back again to his sleigh, And strove to shelter himself till day,

With his coat and the buffalo.

He has given the last faint jerk of the rein,

To rouse up his dying steed;
And the poor dog howls to the blast in vain

For help in his master's need.
For awhile he strives with a wistful cry
To catch the glance of his drowsy eye;
And wags his tail when the rude winds flap
The skirts of his coat across his lap,

And whines that he takes no heed.

The wind goes down, the storm is o'er ;

"Tis the hour of midnight past;
The forest writhes and bends no more,

In the rush of the sweeping blast.
The moon looks out with a silver light
On the high old hills, with the snow all white;
And the giant shadow of Camel's Hump,
Of ledge and tree, and ghostly stump,

On the silent plain are cast.

But cold and dead, by the hidden log,

Are they who came from the town: The man in the sleigh, the faithful dog,

And the beautiful Morgan brown! He sits in his sleigh ; with steady grasp He holds the reins in his icy clasp; The dog with his nose on his master's feet, And the mare half seen through the crusted sleet

Where she lay when she foundered down.

EBERS, GEORG, a German orientalist and nov. elist, born at Berlin, March 1, 1837, after his father's death. He received his early education from his mother, studied in Fröbel's school at Keilhau, and afterward in the Universities of Göttingen and Berlin, giving the preference to oriental, phil. osophical, and archæological studies. He then visited the principal museums of Egyptian antiquities in Europe, and in 1865 established himself at Jena as a private tutor in the Egyptian language and antiquities. In the previous year he had published An Egyptian Princess, an historical romance giving a description of life in Egypt about the time of the Persian conquest (340 B.C.). His works, Egypt and the Books of Moses and A Scientific Journey to Egypt, published in 1869-70, led to his appointment in the latter year to a professorship at Leipsic. While travelling in Egypt in 1872-73 he discovered an important papyrus, which he described in a treatise, and which was named in his honor the Papyrus Ebers. He also published in 1872 a work entitled Through Goshen to Sinai. A severe attack of paralysis in 1876 rendered him unable to walk. He sought recreation in imaginative writing, and in 1877 published Uarda, a Romance of Ancient Egypt, a book which has been translated into nearly all the languages of Europe. It was followed by Egypt-Descriptive, Historical, and Picturesque (1878); Homo Sum, a novel (1878); The Sisters, a romance (1880); Palestine (1881), a work written in collaboration with Guthe; The Burgomaster's Wife: a Tale of the Siege of Leyden (1882); Serapis (1885); Die Nilbraut (1887); Joshua (1889); Margery (1889); Coptic Art (1892); Per Aspera (1892). He has also contributed many articles to periodicals on the Egyptian language and antiquities.

THE HAPPINESS OF A KING.

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Amasis listened attentively, drawing figures the while in the sand with the golden flower on his staff. At last he spoke : “Verily, Cresus, I ‘the great God,' the sun of righteousness, 'the sun of Neith,''the lord of warlike glory,' as the Egyptians call me, am tempted to envy thee, dethroned and plundered as thou art. I have been as happy as thou art now. Once I was known through all Egypt, though only the poor son of a captain, for my light heart, happy temper, fun and high spirits. The common soldiers would do anything for me, my superior officers could have found much fault, but in the mad Amasis, as they called me, all was overlooked, and among my equals (the other under-officers), there could be no fun or merry-making unless I took a share in it. My predecessor, King Hophra, sent us against Cyrene. Seized with thirst in the desert, we refused to go on; and a suspicion that the king intended to sacrifice us to the Greek mercenaries drove the army to open mutiny. In my usual joking manner I called out to my friends : * You can never get on without a king, take me for your ruler ; a merrier you will never find!' The soldiers caught the words. “Amasis will be our king,' ran through the ranks from man to man, and in a few hours more they came to me with shouts and acclamations of • The good, jovial Amasis for our king!' One of my boon companions set a field-marshal's helmet on my head: I made the joke earnest, and we defeated Hophra at Momemphis. The people joined in the con

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