JOHN HERBERT A. BONE. John Herbert A. Bone was born in 1830, at Peuryn, Cornwall, England, and came to this country in 1851. Since 1857 he has been the associate editor of the Cleveland Daily Herald, and out of a genial humor and an inexhaustible storehouse of " quaint and curious lore," has enriched the columns of that journal with many pleasant jeu- d'esprits, and many clever and entertaining essays on " the fair, the old," — such as " Christmas-Day," " New- Year's Eve," and other festive anniversaries evoke. These have been every where read and copied without the author's name — a matter of regret with those who appreciate Mr. Bone's wide culture and fine abilities. Mr. Bone first became known to the people of the West, as a poet, in the columns of the Pen and Pencil, a weekly magazine of sixteen octavo pages, started by Wil- liam Wallace Warden, at Cincinnati, in January, 1853. It was an interesting maga- zine — having a corps of popular contributors and editors who had skill in news and literary paragraphs, but like all its predecessors, failed to secure local confidence and pecuniary support, and died young — when about one year old. Mr. Bone has contributed to the Knicherhocker Magazine, Godey's Lady^s Book, Peterson's Magazine, Boston Museum, Yankee Blade, and many other periodicals and newspapers. His verse is marked by correctness, ease, and poetic feeling. THE TWO TEMPLES. Cheerful and loud rang the Minster peal. And sweet was the organ's strain. As baron and knight stepped forth to kneel On the floor of the sacred fane ; The priestly robes were heavy with gold, And the blaze of the altar light Revealed, in many a silken fold, Gems like the stars of night. Huge and gi'and was the sacred pile, Like a forest the pillars stood ; Wealth and power had formed the style From the porch to the holy rood ; Quaint were the carvings overhead, Bright was the storied pane. Rich were the blazonings of the dead. Who slept 'neath the sacred fane. The Minster gray was a noble pile. Wealth shone on the altar-stone. And many who knelt in the vaulted aisle As warriors brave were known ; The organ pealed forth its harmony, And the incense was scattered wide. And He who taught us humility Was worshiped with pomp and pride. Solemn and low was the ocean hymn. And the chant of the forest drear. As the traveler knelt in the evening dim To ofier his humble prayer; The vaulted roof that o'er him spread, Was the arching azure sky, (589 )
