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Yard-Dogs.

By this mythologic story
We are very plainly told,

That, though gold may have its uses,
There are better things than gold;
That a man may sell his freedom
To procure the shining pelf;
And that Avarice, though it prosper,
Still contrives to cheat itself!

YARD-DOGS.

[WRITTEN BY REQUEST FOR "THE ONWARD reciter."]
MARTIN F. TUPPER, D.C.L.

E

INGLISHMAN! everywhere liberty's friend,
Slavery's foe to earth's uttermost end,-
As free to a freeman I speak, and I claim
To say this kind word in humanity's name.

I care not just now against toil to protest,
For labour and pain are man's fate at the best;
The hardships of life must be numberless still,
Let earnest philanthropy strive as it will:

There are pleaders enough for the factory-hand,
For the serfs of the mine and the sea and the land,
For the child and the woman, as well as the man,
And all of us help them the best that we can.

But-hear me one minute for humbler than these,
The victims of thraldom whom nobody frees,
Whom thoughtlessness dooms to the cruellest fate,
Hopeless imprisonment's bitter estate:

Look at your yard-dog; still clanking his chain
In the heat and the frost and the drought and the rain:
How often does Rover get loose for a run?

Who cares for him, baked by the midsummer sun?

Half-starved too, belike,—and kicked, and abused,
Poor faithful old Rover is wickedly used:

O shame on his master!-the British Legree,

Who chains up his slave, while he boasts himself free!

The howling winds have lashed its sails
On many a wintry night,
When I with careful, scanning eyes
Have sought the beacon-light,
Thinking of those who could not sleep
Till I was safe and right.

And many a time I've clung to mast
When death seemed on our track,
And thought that those who loved me well
Would never see me back;

No land in sight, no star above

In skies so ebon black.

And oft I've taken heart and thought

Of that night long ago,

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When winds and waves filled hearts with fear,

The while they did not know

That Christ, the Lord of life, drew near

Because He loved them so.

And fast my heart has beat with joy-
He still is strong to save,
Although in sight of human eyes

He walks not now the wave;
For He who dwelt with fishermen
His life a ransom gave.

And in a harder fight than e'er

I waged with winds and waves-
'Gainst sin, and Satan, and the Drink
That more and more enslaves,
I've found my only strength in Him,
The loving Lord who saves.

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Only a Flower.

So when I sit beside the hearth,
And boats put off to sea,
I pray, "Lord save the fishermen
Who still are dear to Thee,
And bring them to the haven safe
Where they again would be.

"And make them sharers with Thee, all,
In that new life of Thine,
That in their weakness perfected

May be Thy strength divine;
And be it so that we Thy love
Remember more than wine.""

ONLY A FLOWER.
ELLIN ISABELLE TUPPER.

NLY a flower, a withered Rose,

ONLY

Scentless and brown with the lapse of years;

Only a flower! yet memory goes

Back to that time of hopes and fears,

When she, who had promised to be my bride,

Wandering at evening by my side,

Gave me this flower, a pledge of love,
And all was bright as the stars above.

Only a flower to you; but to me

A precious relic of byegone days:
Only a flower? Again I see,

With her sunny face and winning ways,
Her merry voice, and fair snowy brow,

My own lost love, whom I mourn for now,

Though many years have passed away,

And mine eyes are dim and my hair grown grey.

Only a flower! blooming at noon,

But dead and gone ere the morning's light;

Only a flower! and thus too soon

She faded away from our mortal sight,
And left us behind to weep and to wait
Till we too enter the golden gate,
And with the loved ones 66 gone before"
Dwell there in bliss for evermore.

A Rill from the Town Pump.

A RILL FROM THE TOWN PUMP.

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

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[Scene-The corner of two principal streets. The Town Pump talking through its nose:]

NOON, by the north clock! Noon, by the east! High

noon, too, by these hot sunbeams, which fall, scarcely

aslope, upon my head, and almost make the water bubble and smoke in the trough under my nose. Truly we public characters have a rough time of it! And among all the town officers, chosen at March meeting, where is he that sustains, for a single year, the burden of such manifold duties as are imposed, in perpetuity, upon the Town Pump?

The title of Town Treasurer is rightfully mine, as guardian of the best treasure that the town has. The Overseers of the Poor ought to make me their chairman, since I provide bountifully for the pauper, without expense to him that pays taxes. I am at the head of the Fire Department, and one of the physicians to the Board of Health. As a keeper of the peace, all water drinkers will confess me equal to the Constable. I perform some of the duties of the Town Clerk, by promulgating public notices, when they are pasted on my front. To speak within bounds, I am the chief person of the municipality, and exhibit, moreover, an admirable pattern to my brother officers, by the cool, steady, upright, downright, and impartial discharge of my business, and the constancy with which I stand to my post. Summer or winter nobody seeks me in vain; for, all day long, I am seen at the busiest corner, just above the market, stretching out my arms to rich and poor alike, and at night I hold a light over my head, both to show where I am, and keep people out of the gutters!

At this sultry noontide, I am cupbearer to the parched populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my waist. Like a dram-seller, I cry aloud to all and sundry in my plainest accents, and at the very tip-top of my voice: “Here is the unadulterated ale of Father Adam-better than Cognac,

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A Rill from the Town Pump.

Hollands, Jamaica, strong-beer, or wine of any price, here it is by the hogshead or the single glass, and not a cent to pay!" It were a pity if all this outcry should draw no customers. Here they come. A hot day, gentlemen! quaff and away again, so as to keep yourselves in a nice cool sweat. You, my friend, will need another cup-ful to wash the dirt out of your throat, if it be as thick there as it is on your cow-hide shoes. I see that you have trudged half-a-score of miles to-day; and, like a wise man, have passed by the taverns, and stopped at the running brooks and well-curbs. Otherwise, betwixt heat without and a fire within, you would have been burnt down to a cinder, or melted down to nothing at all in the fashion of a jelly-fish. Drink, and make room for that other fellow, who seeks my aid to quench the fiery fever of last night's potations, which he drained from no cup of mine. Welcome, most rubicund sir! You and I have been great strangers hitherto ; nor, to express the truth, will my nose be anxious for a closer intimacy, till the fumes of your breath be a little less potent. Mercy on you, man! the water absolutely hisses down your red-hot gullet, and is converted quite to steam in the miniature tophet which you mistake for a stomach. Fill again, and tell me, on the word of an honest toper, did you ever, in cellar, tavern, or any kind of dram-shop, spend the price of your children's food for a swig half so delicious? Now, for the first time these ten years, you know the flavour of cold water. Good-bye: and whenever you are thirsty remember that I keep a constant supply at the old stand. Who next? Oh, my little friend, you are let loose from school, and come hither to scrub your blooming face, and drown the memory of certain taps of the ferule, and other schoolboy troubles, in a draught from the Town Pump. Take it, pure as the current of your young life. Take it, and may your heart and tongue never be scorched with a fiercer thirst than now! There, my dear child, put down the cup, and yield your place to this elderly gentleman, who treads so tenderly over the stones, that I suspect he is afraid of breaking them. What! he limps by without so much as thanking me, as if my hospitable offers