The rain sounds softly through the gloom;
A footstep pauses at the door.

"You here, my dear?" a clear voice says.
"I've hunted for you everywhere!"
Then Ralph, in laughing earnest, lays
His hand on Amy's shining hair.
"No wonder that you looked in vain,
Mamma, for we have been to Greece -
We did not mind about the rain-

And I have found the Golden Fleece."

ASLEEP AT THE SWITCH.

CHARLES HOEY.

(Abridged.)

The first thing I remember, was Carlo tugging

away

With the sleeve of my coat fast in his teeth, pull

ing as much as to say,

"Come, master, awake, attend to the switch, lives now depend upon you,

Think of the souls in the coming train, and the graves you are sending them to;

Think of the mother and the babe at her breast, think of the father and son;

Think of the lover and loved one too, think of them

doomed every one,

To fall, as it were by your hand, into yon fathomless ditch,

Murdered by one who should guard them from harm, who now lies asleep at the switch."

I sprang up amazed, scarce knew where I stood, sleep had o'ermastered me so;

I could hear the wind hollowly howling, and the deep river dashing below;

I could hear the forest leaves rustling, as the trees by the tempest were fanned;

But what was that noise in the distance? That, I could not understand.

I heard it at first indistinctly, like the rolling of some muffled drum,

Then nearer and nearer it came, till it made my very ears hum;

What is this light that surrounds me, and seems to set fire to my brain?

What whistle's that, yelling so shrilly? Ah! I know now! it's the train!

We often stand facing some danger, and seem to take root to the place;

So I stood with this demon before me, its heated breath scorching my face;

Its headlight made day of the darkness, and glared like the eyes of some witch;

The train was almost upon me before I remem bered the switch.

I sprang to it, seizing it wildly, the train dashing fast down the track,

The switch resisted my efforts, some demon seemed holding it back;

On, on came the fiery-eyed monster, and shot by my face like a flash;

I swooned to the earth the next moment, and knew nothing after the crash.

How long I lay unconscious 't was impossible to tell, [a hell; My stupor was almost a heaven, my waking almost For I then heard the piteous moaning and shrieking of husbands and wives,

And of the day we all shrink from, when I must account for their lives.

Mothers rushed by me like maniacs, their eyes glar. ing madly and wild;

Fathers, losing their courage, gave way to their grief like a child;

Children searching for parents, I noticed, as by me they sped;

And lips that could form naught but "Mamma," were calling for one perhaps dead.

My mind was made up in a moment, the river should hide me away;

When, under the still burning rafters, I suddenly noticed there lay

A little white hand; she who owned it was doubtless an object of love

To one whom her loss would drive frantic, though she guarded him now from above.

I tenderly lifted the rafters and quietly laid them one side;

How little she thought of her journey when she left for this dark, fatel ride;

I lifted the last log from off her, and while searching for some spark of life,

Turned her little face up in the starlight, and recognized-Maggie, my wife.

O Lord! thy scourge is a hard one, at a blow thou hast shattered my pride!

My life will be one endless nightmare, with Maggie away from my side!

How often I'd sat down and pictured that some day I, p'r'aps, might be rich—

But all of my dreams had been shattered, while I lay there asleep at the switch.

I fancied I stood on my trial, the jury and judge I

could see,

And every eye in the court room was steadily fixed upon me;

And fingers were pointed in scorn, till I felt my face blushing blood-red,

And the next thing I heard were the words, "Hanged by the neck until dead."

Then I felt myself pulled once again, and my hand caught right hold of a dress,

And I heard, "What's the matter, dear Jim? You've had a bad nightmare, I guess!"

And there stood Maggie, my wife, with never a scar from the ditch,

I'd been taking a nap in my bed, and had not been "asleep at the switch."

WHEN SANTA CLAUS COMES.

A good time is coming, I wish it were here;
The very best time in the whole of the year.
I'm counting each day on my fingers and thumbs
The hours that must pass before Santa Claus comes.

Good-bye for a while, then, to lessons and school;
We can talk, laugh, and sing, without breaking the

rule.

No troublesome spellers, no writing, nor sums, There's nothing but playtime, when Santa Claus

comes.

I suppose I shall have a new dolly, of course,
My last one was killed by a fall from her horse;
While for Harry and Jack, there'll be trumpets and

drums,

To deafen us with when Santa Claus comes.