cryin' for me cloes wid me lasht breat'. "Ayeh, give me me cloes," I cried. Me crazy frind said in a cold, shlippery vice, "Shure, yez can't dress in a tank."

Wid that I began me lasht prayer on earth, kase I knew me end had coom. When all at once they began tuggin' at me, an' dhraggin' me as if mesel' was a whale in Conney Islant, an' landed me wit' a shlap on the flagstones agin. ·

"Give me me cloes!" I schreached, an' thin I hear-d somethin' shot up in the air like a pistol an' down kem the peltin' rain on mesel'.

"O Lord!" says mesel', "if ye won't give me me cloes, thin for God's sake give me the lind o' a loan of an umbrella.”

But sorra a wo-rd out o' aither o' their mouths. "Shtop it!" sez I. "What does ye take me for, onnyway? Shure, I'm no mermaid under a wather-sphout. Give me me cloes," sez I, an' wid that wan o' thim moved slow like an' solemn an' began t` rowl me in a blanket, like as how I was a Pawnee Indian, an' the both thin marched afther me agin, an' thin pintin' to a place as looked as how it was laid out for corpses, towld me to lay down and shlape.

"Shlape?" sez mesel', as the man sez in the play; "I'll shlape no more.' Whatever ye ax, ladies, for the batin' an' the sault-an'batters yez made upon me, I'll pay yez in welcome; but I say I must have me cloes."

"No," sez the one that looked as if she had more sowl in her body than me first frind, "lie down an' shlape."

Wid that I jumped to me feet, an' if ever me eyes blazed wid a justifi-able endignation, they did thin. "Do yez know who I am?” I axed-takin' courage wid the thought o' the poethry me grand fayther used to write; an' how the big tears rowled over his eyes an' down his nose, wid the beauty o' his own vice when he read it. Sez I agin, "Do yez know who I am?" "No," they sez, shmilin' acrass me face at aich other. "Will, thin," sez I, “I'll give yez the niscessary information. I'm the hon-or-able sphouse of Mr. Micha Mulderrick, the famous cop-man on the Tom-ny bout;

an', more-over, he onct helped the Prisident's wife acrass his beat. An' be the same token, that same dig-nay-tory giv him a shmilean' Micha sez that whin me teeth, that's out, is in, that her shmile is much like me own."

Did I get me cloes? Ayeh, they even dhressed me like as I was born in the Tom'ny circle. "Will we call a cab?" they axed mesel' in a tremblin' vice an' white to the lips.

"No," sez I, "the divil a cab. Vanderbilt's throtters could niver take me fashter from this place than me own two ligs."

THE MINUET.

FANNIE BLOODWORTH.

[Minuet music should be played as background. Beginning with third line of Stanza I. speaker should keep in time with music, taking minuet steps in keeping with lines recited. With finale of Stanza I. speaker should complete minuet movement. Beginning with third line of Stanzą II. speaker takes up dance again and continues through line 4. Then goes on reciting without any dancing-movements to finale of Stanza II. Stanza III. is recited to line 6, when speaker again dances as indicated by lines spoken and completes minuet movement after last line. Stanza IV. is recited without any dancing-steps until line 7, when steps of minuet are performed with most stately air to conclusion of minuet movement. Stanza V. is recited until line 5, when minuet steps are again introduced. With line 7 up-to-date dancing steps may be introduced and continued to finish of stanza. Then speaker may dance about stage and off in most lively, flirtatious up-to-date dance.]

Grandmamma's approving smile
Greets the dancers all the while;
Grandma once was young and fair,
She remembers gliding there
In the dance.

III.

She has danced the selfsame dances, And the memory enhances

Joys that spring from happy pictures
In the dance.

So she sees with smiling face
Every dancer take his place;
Sees the partners bending low,
Moving gracefully and slow
In the dance.

IV.

But the beaux and belles so stately
(It is whispered) very lately
Have been wishing for a change
In the dance.

For what flirting can be done

Where they neither laugh nor run?

And the stately minuet

Leaves no chances to forget

In the dance.

V.

So, although cur dance is charming, And new-fashioned ways alarming, Soon there'll be a wondrous change In the dance.

Then instead of gliding slow,

Forward, backward, to and fro,

Perhaps they'll twist and turn about,

Swiftly moving in and out,

In the dance.

I

VOICE OF PEACE.

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.

DREAMED a Voice, of one God-authorized,

Cried loudly thro' the world, "Disarm! Disarm!”

And there was consternation in the camps;

And men who strutted under braid and lace

Beat on their medaled breasts and wailed, "Undone !"
The word was echoed from a thousand hills,
And shop and mill, and factory and forge,
Where throve the awful industries of death,
Hushed into silence. Scrawled upon the doors,
The passer read, "Peace bids her children starve.”
But foolish women clasped their little sons
And wept for joy, not reasoning like men.
Again the Voice commanded: "Now go forth
And build a world for Progress and for Peace.
This work has waited since the earth was shaped;
But men were fighting, and they could not toil.
The needs of life outnumber needs of death.
Leave death with God. Go forth, I say, build."
And then a sudden comprehensive joy
Shone in the eyes of men, and one who thought
Only of conquests and of victories
Woke from his gloomy reverie and cried:
"Aye, come and build! I challenge all to try.
And I will make a world more beautiful
Than Eden was before the serpent entered."
And like a running flame on western wilds,
Ambition spread from mind to listening mind,
And lo! the looms were busy once again,
And all the earth resounded with men's toil.
Vast palaces of Science graced the world;
Their banquet tables spread with feasts of truth

For all who hungered. Music kissed the air,
Once rent with booms of cannon. Statues gleamed
From wooded ways, where ambushed armies hid
In times of old. The sea and air were gay
With shining sails that soared from land to land.
A universal language of the world.

Made nations kin, and poverty was known
But as a word marked "obsclete," like war.
The arts were kindled with celestial fire;
New poets sang, so Homer's fame grew dim;
And brush and chisel gave the wondering race
Sublimer treasures than old Greece displayed.
Men differed still; fierce argument arose,
For men are human in this human sphere;
But unarmed Arbitration stood between
And Reason settled in a hundred hours
What War disputed for a hundred years.
Oh, that a Voice, of one God-authorized
Might cry to all mankind, Disarm! Disarm!

DISCIPLININ' SISTAH BROWN.

JAMES E. CAMPBELL.

HET up dat noise, yo' chillen! Dar's someone at de do'.

Des ma'ch yo'se'f right in, sah! (Jane, take dem ashes out!
Dis house look lak ur hog-pen; yo', M'randy, jump erbout!)
Wy, bress my soul, hit's Efrum-wy, Efrum, how yo' do?
An' Tempie an' de chillen? I hopes dey's all well, too.
Hyuh, M'randy, bresh dat stool off. Now, Efrum, des sot down.
Wut's de news f'um off de Ridge an' wut's de news in town?
Now doan' yo' t'ink dem niggahs hed Susan fo' de chu'ch
'Bout dawncin' at de pa'ty-dey call dat sinnin' much.
Dey up an' call ur meetin' turn 'scipline Sistah Brown,