W

THE FERRY-BOAT.

RECKS of clouds of a sombre gray,

Like the ribbed remains of a mastodon, Were piled in masses along the west,

And a streak of red stretched over the sun.

I stood on the deck of the ferry-boat,

As the summer evening deepened to night; Where the tides of the river ran darkling past,

Through lengthening pillars of crinkled light.

The wind blew over the land and the waves
With its salt sea-breath, and a spicy balm,
And it seemed to cool my throbbing brain,
And lend my spirit its gusty calm.

The forest of masts, the dark-hulled ships,
The twinkling lights, and the sea of men,
I read the riddle of each and all,

And I knew their inner meaning then.

For while the beautiful moon arose,

And drifted the boat in her yellow beams, My soul went down the river of thought, That flows in the mystic land of dreams!

Richard Henry Stoddard.

HEADQUARTERS OF WASHINGTON,

WHEN NEW YORK WAS EVACUATED BY CLINTON.

T is a structure of the olden time,

IT

Built to endure, not dazzle for a day:

A stain is on the venerable roof,

Telling of conflict with the King of Storms;

And clings to casement worn and hanging eaves, With thread-like roots, the moss.

Gray shutters swing
On rusted hinges, but the beams of day
Dart with a softening radiance through the bars.
Colossal domes of chiselled marble made,
Religion's fanes, with glittering golden spires,
And Mammon's airy and embellished halls,
Wearing a modern freshness, are in sight;
But a cold glance they win from me alone.
Why do I turn from Art's triumphant works
To look on pile more humble? Why in thought
Linger around this ancient edifice?

The place is hallowed,- Washington once trod,
Planning the fall of tyranny, these floors.
Within yon chamber did he bend the knee,
Calling on God to aid the patriot's cause,
At morn and in the solemn hour of night.
His mandate, pregnant with a nation's fate,
Went forth from these plain, unpretending walls.
Here towered in warlike garb his stately form,
While marshalled thousands in the dusty street

Gave ear to his harangue, and inly vowed
To die or conquer with their matchless chief.
Methinks at yon old window I behold
His calm majestic features, while the sound
Of blessing rises from the throng below.
Have not the scenes of other days returned?
Do I not hear the sentry's measured tramp,
Clangor of mail and neigh of battle-steed,
Mingling their discord with the drum's deep roll?
No! 't was a dream! - the magic of a place,
Allied to memory of earth's noblest son,

Gives form and seeming life to viewless air.

*

*

William Henry Cuyler Hosmer.

PAN IN WALL STREET.

UST where the Treasury's marble front

JUST

Looks over Wall Street's mingled nations; Where Jews and Gentiles most are wont

To throng for trade and last quotations ; Where, hour by hour, the rates of gold Outrival, in the ears of people,

The quarter-chimes, serenely tolled

From Trinity's undaunted steeple,—

Even there I heard a strange, wild strain
Sound high above the modern clamor,

Above the cries of greed and gain,

The curbstone war, the auction's hammer;

ļ

And swift, on Music's misty ways,

It led, from all this strife for millions,
To ancient, sweet-do-nothing days
Among the kirtle-robed Sicilians.

And as it stilled the multitude,
And yet more joyous rose, and shriller,
I saw the minstrel, where he stood
At ease against a Doric pillar:
One hand a droning organ played,

The other held a Pan's-pipe (fashioned
Like those of old) to lips that made

The reeds give out that strain impassioned.

'T was Pan himself had wandered here

A-strolling through this sordid city,

And piping to the civic ear

The prelude of some pastoral ditty! The demigod had crossed the seas,

From haunts of shepherd, nymph, and satyr,

And Syracusan times, to these

Far shores and twenty centuries later.

A ragged cap was on his head;

But hidden thus-there was no doubting That, all with crispy locks o'erspread,

His gnarléd horns were somewhere sprouting; His club-feet, cased in rusty shoes,

Were crossed, as on some frieze you see them, And trousers, patched of divers hues,

Concealed his crooked shanks beneath them.