into a mighty State, whose inhabitants number nearly
4,000,000.
In his “city of brotherly love,” now grown to the dimensions of a great metropolis, with a population three times greater than the London of his day, he would find the nations of the earth represented at a celebration of the completion of a century of free government, founded upon those principles of civil and religious liberty on which he established his colonial polity 200 years ago.
By Jennie K. Griffith.
You saw her dead in her rosewood case,
That was frosted with silver and lined with lace,
A pillow of satin, with tassels of silk,
And silken fringes whiter than milk,
Folds of linen like snowy drift
Over the bosom no breath might lift,
White hands crossed, and pomp and show,
Hiding the heart that was broken below.
Had I but known that the little hands
Held fateful dower of gold and lands,
I could have worshipped and walked aside,
Content in loving, my love to hide—
For their palms had touched me, and evermore
Life would have brimmed with the ectasy o’er,
As the Nile's love-valleys, caressed from sleep,
With tropical terrors the memory keep.
As star answers star in the twilight of earth,
So a love in her bosom like my love had birth.
I kneel to recall it, the love of that girl
For the gift was an ominous, sad sea-pearl;
All of the wealth of her womanly soul,
O! her tenderness all, of her life the whole;
For how could they give her to such as I?
For my darling is dead, and that is why.
By Miss L. M. Alcott, Author of "Little Women," "The Eight Cousins," Etc, Etc.
I bought my roll that day of the quiet woman who kept the bake-shop near my poor lodging. I liked her ways; she always folded my purchase in a tidy paper, received my three cents with a little bow and a softly spoken "Thank you," which dignified the paltry transaction and cost my pride no pang. At the corner I paused to decide where I should dine. A simple process, one would fancy, for the bread composed my meal. But, not being a Franklin, I objected to consuming the roll in public, and had two free dining-rooms to choose from—the Park in fine weather, a certain reading-room in stormy. A drop of rain decided me, and I strolled leisurely away to the latter refuge, for hunger had not yet reached its unendurable stage.
The room was deserted by all occupants but the librarian and one old gentleman, consulting a file of foreign newspapers. I slipped into an alcove. devoured my dinner behind a book, and then fell to brooding moodily over the desperate state of my finances and prospects: the first consisting of a single dollar, the last a slow starvation or manual labor, if I could bring myself to it. An abrupt exclamation from the old gentleman roused me, for it had a hopeful sound.
"Page, who copied this? I’d like to secure such a penman."
"Don’t know, I'm sure, sir," responded Page. "Among so many clerks it's impossible to tell. I'll inquire if you like."
"No; couldn’t have him, if you did. But if you happen to hear of any good copyist who, for a moderate sum, would do a job for me, let me know, Page."
"I will, sir."
The old gentleman put down the list of newly-arrived books which he had been examining, and drew on his gloves. As he approached my alcove a sudden impulse prompted me to step out and address him.
"Pardon me, sir, but necessarily overbearing your request, I venture to offer myself for trial."
"Have you any references or recommendations to offer, eh?" asked the old gentleman, pausing.
I had an excellent one which I had vainly offered to many persons for the last month. He read the very flattering letter from a well-known scholar whom I had served as secretary for a year, and seemed inclined to try me."
"Hum—quite correct—very satisfactory. Give me a sample of you writing; here's pen and paper."
I obeyed, and laying a sheet of paper upon the open book I had been reading, dashed off my signature in several different styles.
"Very good; the plainest suits me best. What's this? So you understand Italian, do you?"
"Yes, sir; perfectly, I believe."
The old gentleman meditated, and while doing so scanned my face with a pair of keen eyes, in which I could discover nothing but curiosity. I gratified it by saying, briefly:
"Mine is the old story, sir. I am a gentleman's son, poor, proud and friendless now, in want of employment, and ready to do anything for my daily bread."
"Anything, young man?" asked the old gentleman, almost startling me with the energy of his emphasis on his first word.
"Anything but crime, sir. I am in a strait where one does not hesitate long between almost any humiliation and absolute want."
I spoke as forcibly as he had done; it seemed to please him, for the stony immobility of his face relaxed, and a curious expression of satisfaction crept over it.
"Come to me to-morrow at ten. There is my address."
And, thrusting a card into my hand, the old gentleman walked away.
Precisely at ten o’clock on the morrow I presented myself at Mr. North's door, and was speedily set at work in his very comfortable office. The whole affair was rather peculiar, but I liked it the better for that, and the more eccentric the old lawyer appeared, the more I desired to remain with him, though copying deeds was not exciting. He seemed to take
