"Because I fell in love."

"Because you fell in love!" growled Scrooge, as if that were the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. "Good afternoon!

"Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me before that happened. Why give it as a reason for not coming now?"

"Good afternoon," said Scrooge.

"I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of you; why can not we be friends?"

"Good afternoon!" said Scrooge.

"I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. We have never had any quarrel, to which I have been a party. But I have made the trial in homage to Christmas, and I'll keep my Christmas humor to the last. So a merry Christmas, uncle!" "Good afternoon," said Scrooge.

66

'And a happy New Year!"

"Good afternoon!" said Scrooge.

His nephew left the room without an angry word, notwithstanding. He stopped at the outer door to bestow the greetings of the season on the clerk, who, cold as he was, was warmer than Scrooge; for he returned them cordially.

"There's another fellow," muttered Scrooge, who overheard him: "my clerk, with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife and family, talking about a merry Christmas. I'll retire to Bedlam."

Bed' lam, madhouse; insane asylum. cov' et ous, wishing to get what belongs to others.

i'ron mon' ger y, hardware. mo rose', sullen.

pal' pa ble, that which can be seen. phan' tom, an airy spirit; a specter.

re sid' u a ry leg' a tee', one who inherits what remains after other legacies are paid.

rime, white frost.

sim'i le, expression of likeness; comparison.

"OH MOTHER OF A MIGHTY RACE."

(AMERICA.)

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

Oh mother of a mighty race,

Yet lovely in thy youthful grace!
The elder dames, thy haughty peers,
Admire and hate thy blooming years.
With words of shame

And taunts of scorn they join thy name.

For on thy cheeks the glow is spread
That tints thy. morning hills with red;
Thy step-the wild-deer's rustling feet
Within thy woods are not more fleet;
Thy hopeful eye

Is bright as thine own sunny sky.

Ay, let them rail-those haughty ones,
While safe thou dwellest with thy sons.
They do not know how loved thou art,
How many a fond and fearless heart
Would rise to throw

Its life between thee and the foe.

They know not, in their hate and pride,
What virtues with thy children bide;
How true, how good, thy graceful maids
Make bright, like flowers, the valley-shades;
What generous men

Spring, like thine oaks, by hill and glen;

What cordial welcomes greet the guest
By thy lone rivers of the West;
How faith is kept, and truth revered,
And man is loved, and God is feared,
In woodland homes,

And where the ocean border foams.

There's freedom at thy gates and rest
For Earth's down-trodden and opprest,
A shelter for the hunted head,

For the starved laborer toil and bread.
Power, at thy bounds,

Stops and calls back his baffled hounds.

Oh, fair young mother! on thy brow
Shall sit a nobler grace than now.
Deep in the brightness of the skies.
The thronging years in glory rise,
And, as they fleet,

Drop strength and riches at thy feet.

Thine eye, with every coming hour,

Shall brighten, and thy form shall tower ;

And when thy sisters, elder born,

Would brand thy name with words of scorn,
Before thine eye,

Upon their lips the taunt shall die.

peers, companions; associates.

When a man has no good reason for doing a thing he has one good reason for leaving it alone. - WALTER SCOTT.

RECESSIONAL.

A VICTORIAN ODE.

RUDYARD KIPLING.

God of our fathers, known of old-
Lord of our far-flung battle line-
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine-
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies
The Captains and the Kings depart-
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,

An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!

Far-called, our navies melt away

On dune and headland sinks the fire

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday

Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! Judge of Nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget-lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe-

Such boasting as the Gentiles use,

Or lesser breeds without the lawLord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget-lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard-
All valiant dust that builds on dust,

And guarding, calls not Thee to guard.
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord!

con' trite, penitent.

dūne, a low hill of sand accumulated

on a seacoast.

shard, a fragment of any hard material.

ΑΜΕΝ.

Nin'e veh and Tyre, ancient important cities of Assyria and Phenicia, long since destroyed.

THE RETURN OF THE REFUGEES.

PATRICK HENRY.

(From a speech in the Virginia Legislature.)

"We have, sir, an extensive country, without population — what can be more obvious policy than that this country ought to be populated? People, sir, form the strength and constitute the wealth of a nation. I want to see our vast forests filled up by some process a little more speedy than the ordinary course of nature. I wish to see those states rapidly ascending to the rank which their natural advantages authorize them to hold among the nations of the earth. Cast your eye, sir, over this extensive country observe the salubrity of your climate, the variety and fertility of your soil-and see that soil intersected in every quarter by bold and navigable streams, flowing to the east and to the west, as if the finger of heaven were marking out the course