i roppfcg. t'opptao in the garden, Ah, Che eplendidahowt Paarly, crimson banners In the sunehine's glow, Haughty lonle and ladies Of the garden bed, Bare and lofty petiole, And a gorgeous head. Blow, poppies, blow I Only thero for show. Poppies by the aero, Growing tbero for trade | Prom the pearly banners Subtle poison made. Growing there for markot, Growing to be sold, Mot for scent or beauty— No, indeed I—for gold. Poppies, blow or fade, You are but for trade. Poppies in the wheat field, Now I see a graoe; Bee and beauty blended Maki a pleasant place. 80 with daily labor Blend some pleasure sweet; As the idle poppies Grow among the wheat. Toppies at our feet Grow among the wheat. —Harper's Weekly. THE QUEEN OF THE HAMLET. A PATHHTIU BTOBY TOLD DX A TRAVELER. "A bill of hillocks, flowory and kept green, Bound erosees raised for hope, With many tinted sunsets where the elope Vaoes the lingering western sheen." " Thero you have au exact picture of % litfle village cemetery in the Baden Palatinate where I heard one of the most romantic stories 1 have ever met in the forty years of my life." The speaker was a gentleman residing en West Bprnoe street, Philadelphia, who had been on a lengthened tour in Europe, and was laden with anecdotes md stories of people and adventures. Sitting in his oozy smoking-room, he tontinued: "In the Palatinate it is a customary ihing with tourists to take long walks, ometimes for days together. There is p much to be seen, so many ruined feudal strongholds and bewitching ulleys and romantio waterfalls, which an only be approaohed on foot lam bnd of walking, and with a knapsack containing a few necessities strapped o my baok, and a good stout oaken tiek in my hand, I have tramped many . Herman mile—one of theirs equaling bree of ours—through some of the aost beautiful scenery in the world, fou do not trouble yourself much about lotels. If you cannot find a roadside an, you are safe to oome across a armhouse or a hunter's lodge, and a tospitable welcome is a matter of outse. One evening I arrived at the [uaint little village of Rohrback, a lamlet eighteen miles from Heidelberg, testling at tli9 foot of a gentle de iivity which slopes down to the banks if the Neck or river. On the summit of he hill were the remains of a baronial ironghold, whioh I carefully investi (uted from tower to dungeon. "Then I wandered down the foot •aths to the viilage and entered the uatio church, and soon found myself aeditating over the brass-sontoheoned ombs of the robber lords who were >nee, perhaps, the terror of the dis rict. What a quantity of high, well- K>rn mightiness, to translate the old fforman and Latin inscriptions, was covered by those broken monuments, vhioh at once disfigured and adorned he narrow chancel of the long church, ind what strange scenes were evoked by