And when he goes to bed at night
He never says his prayers.
On Sunday, too, he musses up
My go-to-meetin' clothes,
And once I found him hard at work
A pinchin' Dolly's nose.

Ze ozzer day zat naughty boy

-Now what you s'pose you zink?—

Upset a dreat big bottle

Of my papa's writin' ink.

An' stead of kyin' dood and hard,

As course he ought to done,

He laughed, and crowed, and kicked his feet
As zough he sought 'twas fun.

He even tries to reach up high
An' pull zings off ze shelf.

An' he's al'ays wantin' you of course,
Jus when you wants youself.

I rather dess, I really do,

For how he pulls my turls,
Boy babaies was made a purpose,
For to 'noy us little dirls.

An' I wish zere wasn't no such zings
As naughty baby boys-
Why! why, zats him akyin' now,
He makes a dreful noise

I dess I better run and see

For he has-boo-hoo-hoo!

Fell down ze stairs and killed himself

Whatever shall I do!

GLAUCUS IN THE ROMAN ARENA.

"Bring forth the lion and Glaucus the Athenian!" shouted the people louder than ever.

Glaucus and Olinthus had been placed together in that gloomy and narrow cell in which the criminals.

of the Arena awaited their last and fearful struggle. The religion of the one, the pride of the other, the conscious innocence of both, elevated the victim into the hero.

"Hark! hearest thou that shout?" said Olinthus. "I hear; my heart grows sick; the gods support me!"

"The gods! O rash young man, in this hour recognise only the one God!"

66

Bring forth the lion and Glaucus the Athenian.” "Hush! already they are clamoring for our blood!"

66

"O Heaven!" cried the fervent Olinthus, “I tremble not-I rejoice that the prison-house shall soon be broken."

The door swung gratingly back-the gleam of spears shot along the walls.

"Glaucus the Athenian, thy time is come; the lion awaits thee."

"I am ready. Olinthus, brother, bless me-and farewell!"

The Christian clasped the young heathen to his breast he kissed his cheek and forehead-he wept aloud.

Glaucus tore himself away.

"Courage!" said one; "thou art young and active. They give thee a weapon, despair not, and thou mayst yet conquer!'

And now when the Greek saw the eyes of ten thousand Romans upon him, all fear was gone. A red and haughty flush spread over the paleness of his features, and he stood, the very incarnation, vivid and corporeal, of the valor of his land-at once a hero and a god!

The lion had been kept without food for twentyfour hours, and was now moving about its cage with a restless uneasiness which the keeper attributed to the pangs of hunger. Yet its bearing seemed rather that of fear than of rage; its roar was painful and distressed; it hung its head-snuffed the air through

the bars--lay down-started again and again uttered its wild and far-resounding cries.

The crowd became impatient. The Editor slowly gave the sign. The keeper cautiously removed the grating, and the lion leaped forth with a mighty and glad roar of release.

Glaucus had bent his limbs so as to give himself the firmest posture at the expected rush of the lion. With his small and shining weapon raised on high, he stood waiting the attack. But, to the unutterable astonishment of all, the beast seemed not even aware of his presence. At half-speed it circled round and round the arena, turning its vast head from side to side with an anxious gaze as if seeking some avenue only of escape; once it tried to leap up the parapet that divided it from the audience; failing, it drooped its tail along the sand, and crept with a low moan into its cage.

The rage of the populace at this disappointment was fast becoming uncontrollable, when a loud cry was heard at one of the entrances of the arena. The crowd gave way, and Sallust suddenly appeared on the senatorial benches. Half exhausted, he shouted; "Remove the Athenian,-haste! he is innocent! Arrest Arbaces the Egyptian. He is the murderer of Apæcides!"

"Art thou mad, O Sallust! What means this raving?".

"Remove the Athenian! Quick! or his blood be on your head. Room there!-Stand back! People of Pompeii. Arbaces is the murderer! Here is the witness, Calenus, the priest."

"A miracle! a miracle!" shouted the people. "Arbaces to the lion! Arbaces to the lion!"

The maddened crowd, thirsty for blood, were rushing upon the Egyptian, whose eyes at that moment, beeld shooting above the Amphitheatre a strange and awful apparition. He stretched his hand on high, and shouted with a voice of thunder: "Behold, how the gods protect the guiltless! The fires of the

avenging Orcus burst forth against the false witness of my accusers!"

The eyes of the crowd followed the gesture of the Egyptian, and beheld, with dismay, vast vapors shooting from the summit of Vesuvius, followed by fires that blazed with an intolerable glare! There was a dead, heart-sunken silence-through which there suddenly broke the roar of the crouching lion-so typical of the coming ruin. Then there arose on high the universal shriek of women. Men stared at each other and were dumb; they felt the earth shake beneath their feet, and beheld the mountain-cloud rolling toward them, dark and rapid, like a torrent.

No longer thought the crowd of justice or Arbaces. Each turned to fly-trampling recklessly over the fallen-amidst groans, and oaths and prayers, the enormous crowd poured forth. Whither should they fly? But darker, and larger, and mightier spread the cloud above them--a sudden and ghastly Night rushing upon the realm of Noon.-Adapted from Bulwer's Last Days of Pompeii.

NYDIA.

In proportion as the blackness gathered did the lightnings around Vesuvius increase in their vivid and scorching glare. In the pauses of the showers you heard the rumbling of the earth beneath, and the groaning waves of the tortured sea; or, lower still, the grinding and hissing murmur of the escaping gases through the chasms of the distant mountain. Wild, haggard, ghastly with supernatural fears, fugitive passed fugitive, crowds encountered crowds, but without the leisure to speak, consult, or advise.

Through this awful scene did Glaucus make his way, accompanied by Ione and Nydia, the blind girl. Suddenly, a rush of hundreds, in their path to the sea, swept by them. Nydia was torn from the side. of Glaucus, who, with Ïone, was borne rapidly on

ward; and when the crowd had passed, Nydia was still separated from their side. Glaucus shouted her name. No answer came. They retraced their steps in vain. Their friend, their preserver, was lost. Hitherto Nydia had been their guide. Her blindness rendered the scene familiar to her alone. Accustomed through a perpetual night to thread the windings of the city, she had led them unerringly towards the sea-shore by which they had resolved to hazard an escape. Now which way could they wend?

"Alas!" murmured Ione, "I can go no farther; my steps sink among the scorching cinders. Fly, Glaucus, and leave me to my fate.

"Blessed lightning! See, Ione, see! the portico of the Temple of Fortune is before us. Let us creep beneath it for protection from the showers."

Meanwhile Nydia, when separated by the throng from Glaucus and Ione, had in vain endeavored to regain them. In vain she raised that plaintive cry so peculiar to the blind; it was lost amidst a thousand shrieks of more selfish terror. Weak, yet fearless, supported by but one wish, she was a very emblem of Psyche in her wanderings; of Hope walking through the Valley of the Shadow. On she moved toward the sea-shore. At length a group of torchbearers rushing full against her, she was thrown down.

"What!" said a voice. "Is this the brave blind girl! By Bacchus, it is! Up! My Thessalian! So, so. Are you hurt? That's well! Come

along with us! We are for the shore!"

“O Sallust! it is thy voice! Glaucus-Glaucus! have you seen him?"

"No. He is doubtless out of the city by this time. The god who saved him from the lion will save him from the burning mountain." Just then, Sosia passed with a torch, and its light falling on the face of Nydia, he recognized the Thessalian.

"What avails thy liberty now, blind girl?" said

the slave.