D AVID D RUMMOND'S destinie,
Gude man o' appearance o' Cargill,
I wat this bluid rins in the flude
Sae sair against his parents' will.

She was the lass o' Ballathy toun,
And he the butler o' Stobhall,
And mony a time she wauked late
To bore the Coble o' Cargill.

His bed was made in Kercock ha',
O' gude clean sheets and o' the hay,
He wadna rest a'e nicht therein
But on the proud waters he wad gae.

His bed was made in Ballathy toun,
O' gude clean sheets and o' the strae,
But I wat it was far better made

Daughters, daughters, do ye grieve?
Crimson dark the freshes flow!
Were ye violent at eve?
Crimson stains where the rushes grow!
What is this that I must know?

Mourners by the dark red waters,
Met ye Thammuz at his play?
Was your mood upon you, daughters?
Had ye drunken? O how grey
Looks your hair in the rising day!

Mourners, mourn not overmuch
That ye slew your lovely one.
Such ye are; and be ye such!
Lift your heads; the waters run
Ruby bright in the climbing sun.

Raven hair and hair of gold,

“D AUGHTER , thou art come to die:”
—Sound be thy sleeping, lass.”
“Well: without lament or cry,
—Mother, let me pass.”

“What things on mould were best of all?
—(Soft be thy sleeping, lass.)”
“The apples reddening till they fall
In the sun beside the convent wall.
—Let me pass.”

“Whom on earth hast thou loved best?
—(Sound be thy sleeping, lass.)”
“Him that shared with me thy breast;
Thee and a knight last year our guest.
He hath an heron to his crest.
—Let me pass.”

“What leavest thou of fame or hoard?

Daughter of the ancient Eve,
We know the gifts ye gave — and give.
Who knows the gifts which you shall give,
Daughter of the newer Eve?
You, if my soul be augur, you
Shall — O what shall you not, Sweet, do?
The celestial traitress play,
And all mankind to bliss betray;
With sacrosanct cajoleries
And starry treachery of your eyes,
Tempt us back to Paradise!
Make heavenly trespass; — ay, press in
Where faint the fledge-foot seraphin,
Blest fool! Be ensign of our wars,
And shame us all to warriors!

" Daughter, how the door is creaking,
In the dead of night it shakes! " —
Mother o' mine, the wind is shrieking,
Never mind the noise it makes.
On the window beats the rain.
Lie you still,
And I will
Read the evening prayers again.

Ye daughters of Jerusalem, give heed!
Hark to my friend's feet coming o'er the mead.
I hear his feet o'er the dark meadow tripping,
With nightly dew his locks are dripping.

" Daughter, some one's in the house!
To the stairs I hear him creeping. " —
Mother, it's the little mouse

1

Dat Sunshine Special comin' around de bend,
It blowed jus' like it nevah blowed befoh,
It blowed jus' like it nevah blowed befoh,
It blowed jus' like it nevah blowed befoh.

2

If I had a head-light like on a passenger train,
I'd shine my light on cool Colorado Springs,
I'd shine my light on cool Colorado Springs,
I'd shine my light on cool Colorado Springs.

3

Oh C. C. Rider, now see what you done, done,
You made me love you, now your sweetheart's come,
You made me love you, now your sweetheart's come,

Dasius, chucker-out
at the Turkish Baths,
is a shrewd assessor;
when he saw big-titted
Spatale coming, he decided
to charge her entry for three
persons. What did she do?
Paid with pride of course.

[President of West Virginia Colored Institute.]

Dar's a skool in West Virginny,
Dat I hears dem call de Farm,
Whar dey raises ebery t'ing to eat,
En has de bigges' barns, —
Whar de ho'ses en de cows,
In restin' spend de night,
And w'ar away de hours,
To dey own heart's delight.

Darkling I steal, and with hushed footsteps slow
Thread the dim palace, between painted walls
And pillared aisles and perfumed plants a row.
Whither? O, where? Keen as a sword edge falls
Light from yon slender portal. Onward still
I am lured spell-bound through the noiseless halls.
Still onward. Sense and thought and shrinking will,
Compelled by unresistible control,
Grope toward yon shining slit that sharp and chill
Gleams like the lode-star of my shuddering soul.
Yet would I fain draw back: all is so dark,

Darling, how long before this breath will cease?
How long before my soul shall have sweet peace?
I am so weary, that I fain would rest,
Would rest forever on my Saviour's breast.

Ah! let me gaze once more upon the earth,
So gay, so bright, so full of joy and mirth.
The song-birds sing, and bright flowers bloom for me,
And night's pure stars shine on me lovingly:

Earth is all brightness, still I fain would go
Where all is real, where joy ne'er turns to woe,
Where this frail body will be free from pain,