He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits amongst his boys;

He hears the parson pray and preach;
He hears his daughter's voice
Singing in the village choir,

And it makes his heart rejoice;

It sounds to him like her mother's voice
Singing in paradise;

He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies,

And with his hard rough hand he wipes
A tear from out his eyes.

Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing,
Onward through life be goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees its close;

Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught;
Thus, at the flaming forge of life,
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus, on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed, each thought.

EMMET'S "LULLABY."

Close your eyes, Lena, my darling,
While I sing your lullaby;

Fear thou no danger, Lena,

Move not, dear Lena, my darling;

For your brother watches nigh you, Lena dear
Angels guide thee, Lena dear, my darling;

Nothing evil can come near;

Brightest flowers bloom for thee,

Darling Lena, dear to me.

CHORUS.

Go to sleep, go to sleep, my baby, my baby, my baby.
Go to sleep, my baby, baby, oh! by, go to sleep, Lena, sleep.

Bright be the morning, my darling,

When you ope your eyes,

Sunbeams grow all around you, Lena,

Peace be with thee, love, my darling;

Blue and cloudless be the sky for Lena dear,

Birds sing their bright songs for thee, my darling,

Full of sweetest melody;

Angels ever hover near,

Darling Lena, dear to me.

Said I," Allow me to pay," "Oh, thank you, sir,"

Said the dark girl dressed in blue.

We chatted and talked as we onward walked,
About one thing or the other,

She asked me, too-oh, wasn't it kind

If I had a father or a mother;

"Oh, yes," says I, and a grandmother, too,

But pray, miss, what are you?"

"I'm chief engineer in a milliner's shop,"
Says the dark girl dressed in blue.

We walked about for an hour or two,
Through the town, both near and far;
Then to a large hotel we went-

I stepped up to the bar

She slipped in my hand a ten-dollar bill

I seid

We had some light refreshments,
And I handed out the bill;

The barkeeper counted out the change-
And the bill dropped in the till;
'Twas in currency and silver change-
There was a three-cent piece or two,
So I rolled it up and gave it to
The dark giri dressed in blue.

She thanked me, and said, "I must away,
Fare-you-well, 'till we meet again,
For I've to go to New York

To catch the Boston train."
She quickly glided from my sight,
And soon was lost to view,

I turned to leave, when by my side
Stood a tall man dressed in blue.

This tall man said, "Excuse me, sir,
I'm one of the X division;

That note was bad, my duty is

To take you on suspicion."

Said I, "For a lady I obtained the change."

He said, "Are you telling me true?

Where does she live?-what's her name?" says I,
"I don't know, she's a dark girl dressed in blue."

My story they believed, they thought I'd been de-
ceived,

But they said I must hand back the cash;
I thought it a sin as I gave them the tin-

A way went a ten-dollar smash;

So all young men, take my advice,

Be careful what you do,

When you make the acquaintance of ladies strange,
Especially a dark girl dressed in blue.

POOR OLD SLAVE.

'Tis just one year ago to-day, that I remember well: I sat down by poor Nelly's side, a story she did tell; [year; 'Twas about a poor unhappy slave, that lived for many a But now he's dead and in his grave, no master does he fear.

CHORUS.

The poor old slave has gone to rest, we know that he is free; Disturb him not, but let him rest, 'way down in Tennessee. She took my arm, we walked along into an open field; [steal. And here she paused to breathe awhile, then to his grave did She sat down by that little mound, and softly whispered there: Come to me, father, 'tis thy child! then gently dropped a tear.

But since that time, how things have changed! poor Nelly that was my bride,

[side.

Is laid beneath the cold grave sod, with her father by her
I planted there, upon her grave, the weeping-willow tree;
I bathed its roots with many a tear, that it might shelter me.

BONNY ELOISE.

Sweet is the vale where the Mohawk gently glides,
On its clear winding way to the sea,

And dearer than all storied streams on earth besides
Is this bright rolling river to me;

But sweeter, dearer, yes, dearer far than these,
Who charms when others all fail,

Is blue-eyed, Bonny, Bonny Eloise,
The Belle of the Mohawk Vale.

Oh, sweet are the scenes of my boyhood's sunny hour,
That bespangled the gay valley o'er,

[tears

And dear are the friends seen through memory's fond
That he lived in the blest days of yore;

But sweeter, dearer, yes, dearer far than these,

Who charms when others all fail,

Is blue-eyed, Bonny, Bonny Eloise,
The Belle of the Mohawk Vale.

Oh, sweet are the moments when dreaming I roam,
Through my loved haunts now mossy and gray,
And dearer than all is my childhood's hallowed home,
That is crumbling now slowly away;

But sweeter, dearer, yes, dearer far than these,

Who charms when others all fail,

Is blue-eyed, Bonny, Bonny Eloise,

The Belle of the Mohawk Vale.

SHELLS OF OCEAN.

One Summer eve, with pensive thought,
I wandered on the sea-beat shore,
Where oft, in heedless infant sport,
I gathered shells in days before-
Where oft, in heedless infant sport,
I gathered shells in days before.
The splashing waves like music fell,
Responsive to my fancy wild,
A dream came o'er me like a spell,
I thought I was again a child-
A dream came o'er me like a spell,
I thought I was again a child.

I stood upon the pebbly strand,

To cull the toys that 'round me lay,
But as I took them in my hand,

I threw them one by one away-
But as I took them in my hand,

I threw them one by one away.

"Oh, thus," I said, "in every stage,
By toys our fancy is beguiled,
We gather shells from youth to age,
And then we leave them like a child-
We gather shells from youth to age,

And then we leave them like a child."

I WANT TO SEE THE COTTON FIELDS AND THE DEAR OLD HOME AGAIN.

I've wandered very far away

From the clime where I was born,
And my poor heart has been so sad,
Dejected and forlorn;

No master kind to treat me well,
To cheer me when in pain;

I want to see the cotton fields,
And the dear old home again.

CHORUS.

Oh, the good old days are passed and gone,
I sigh for them in vain;

I want to see the cotton fields,

And the dear old home again.

When I was free I left that land

Where the days are bright and fair,
Where missus spoke to me so kind,
When I was bowed with care;

I left that home no friends to find,
My heart was filled with pain;
Oh, take me to that good old home,
To see it once again.

I'm left all sad and lonely now,
When my days are very few;
My wife and children both are gone,
I don't know what to do;

My master, too, he may be dead,
His hair was turning gray;
Oh, let me see that good old home,
Before I pass away.