187 E LANE . IN TH E EE PL -TR AP HEthem both , laughing declared ; and he would not , in spite of Cora's dashed at them and kisTsed attempt at expostulation , when May vowed that the business was of the utmost importance. yidng , and redpeating, d and"Icrdi Then May danced about them again, and d gh ul I Hu wo old I tol ! it I di it! d if he'd only mind me! And you thought he laughe and cried more ; and aunt Agatha and h liked me, and was badly treated ; and so you got Wentwort came in, and I doubt if a happier set le op of pe were gathered together in this old ed acquaint with him . Oh! you panther princess , world that has such a trick of sometimes turnen !"e went so crazy that she made them both ing into heav when we least expect it. Thanks youSh ul laugh , and brought them down a little from be to a mercif Father, who helps us and guides te us, in spi our blind struggles and erring of e nc h their lofty roma , whic was good for them. ls il yw 'll s in d . . Wellesle "You she t ,"saiMr "I shallmis go tra not the till ," nigh - so I leave them .
APPLE - TREE
IN
THE
LANE .
TIIE BY MRS . S. P. MESERVE HAYES . A trysting-place for youthful friends Was the apple -tree , in the days of yore ; rn e od Ir sto clos by where , on leathe -binge , And oft we've sat beneath its shade , The gate swung back from the grassy lane ; And talked bright dreams of the future o'er. Where the cows come home when the dusky eve d when the warm October sun , tle ew An r in Its man thr ove hill and pla . Shone on the maple's scarlet robe , Its branches , knotty and gnarled by time, We gathered apples smooth and fair, Waved to and fro in the idle breeze , When the Spring days brought a blushing crown And round as our own mystic globe. The stately hemlock crowns the hill, Of blossoms bright to the apple -trees. And dark pines rise above the plain ; Its shadow fell o'er the crystal stream, But one we prize far more than theyThat all the long , bright Summer days , The apple -tree in the pasture-lane . Like a silver thread , 'mid the waving grass , Long years have passed , and cows no more Reflected back the golden rays Come home at night through the grassy lane, Of the noonday sun, that madly strove Where the gate swung back on leathern-hinge, To drink the fount of the brooklet dry; But the rain-clouds showered tear -drops down , I stand and gaze on the far-off plain. No more we list to the music low And the glad brook laughed as it glided by. Of the crystal stream as it ripples on; Never were apples half so sweetAnd the apple -tree in the pasture -lane, Golden russet , striped with redIs but a dream of the days by-gone . As those that fell on the yielding turf, As we shook the branches overhead .
S
MEMORY'
HAL L.
RK . BY HENRY C. PA For the lips that warbled them now are dumb , And slumber in silence there. 's On a strange old castle is Memory Hall , With its towers and turrets sublime ; Smiles that have faded , and joys now dead , For its portals are guarded by spectres talle tho ught fair, face ircled t enc athsswe d wre some loved one's head, thaonc AnAnd The spectres of years, that come at the call oes t t me e Of ech tha liv in tha cli . Words of tenderness once been said, And garments that she used to wear. It stands in the country of " Long Ago," By the side of the river of Time , hoes of voices that used to call, E ess Whose waters surge on with an endl flow, Fall on the tremulous air; And sing a song as they gently go, And pictures dim on its sombered walls , As soft as the vesper chime. Scenes from the shadowy past recall, To the door of this castle we often go, While we stand enchanted there. For we've buried our treasures there ; There are brows of beauty , and hands of snow , The present departs , and the past returns , And forms we have clasped long years ago, As we tread o'er its dusty floor ; And our hearts, overflowing with sadness, burn, And tresses of golden hair And our souls within us with wildness yearn , There's a lute unswept , and a harp unstrung, For the things we loved of yore, And a part of a dying prayer ; And fragments of song no longer sung,
