self at all. He should have shot. It was the only
proper and logical sequence of poor Mrs.
Thorpe’s taking off. Several men at the dub, of
course in the novelty of the matter and before the
gossips had dropped the subject and taken up
the next scandal in discussion, even said they
would like to do it for him; but having thus eased
their minds, did no more.
And what of the said J. Thorpe, and the aveng
ing furies supposed to inflict (poetical) justice up
on mankind ? Did they overtake him?
Verily in the lapse of twelvemonths he was uni
ted again in the holy bonds of wedlock with a for
tune«//r/a lady, to whom said Mrs. Cunningham
had thoughtfully told all the ghastly details of the
said tragedy. And she accepted him ! T.
O Linns, Linus I Lovely in thy life,
Drear was thy death, the early deatli of Spring
I sing of Linus. Let tile vocal woods
King with tlio word, and coho gives mo hack
From rocks and trees the well-heloved name.
While happy vintage crowns the fruitful years,
And men and maidens, eager in their toll,
Outlier rli'ogrupcs and press the ruddy wine ;
While yine-leuves garland each devoted head,
A hundred altars smoko, and, mid the crowd
Of merry rustics making holiday,
Lord Bneclius reigns, the ruler of the feast;
Far from the throng I wander, and al ine
Cherish the name of one beloved bliade,
Teaching these woods to ring witli Linus’ name.
%
Not Ceres moves mo, with her waving corn,
Klpo fields, and crops that fill the garners full;
Not Proserpine restored, what time the earth
Bursts into life and fills the groves with song;
Nor yet Adonis, whom the village maids
In plaintive accents wall in every wood.
lint when the early foliage wilts ami fades
Before tile Summer's heat, the air grows thick
With heavy vapors, and the nightingale
Sings deep in sliado hy night, loud sonnds by day
l’lie hoarse cloada, and the meadow-brook
Runs parched and panting from the scorching Sun;
The wearied peasants, lingering in tho shade
Of beech and maple, wlillo away tho hours
With lazy tales or pass tho time in sleep;
Then wandering alone with rostless steps,
Myself tlie sole companion of my grief,
I call upon tlioso leafy solitudes
THE FREE LANCE
LINUS.
To sluire my grlufand ring with Limit}* name,
For Spring is dead and Summer r»ign» supreme.
Within, these woods so dark, so deep and cool,
Kecallthe memory ofn vanished time.
When dewy foliugo, flowers on their stems
Just opening to the cool and gentle breeze,
So ft airs and mellow tones proclaimed tho Spring 5
Without, the air is motionless and dead,
Sirius is lord and from his height in heaven
Blasts fluids and mortals with his burning breath 5
Linus is gone and Summer is supreme. ’
Proserpine had proceeded him, ami where
Her dainty footstep trod, sprang lilies white.
Crocus and hyacinth and dafl'odil,
Carpet of green, fresh grass and verdentinoss;
Where her caressing hand or magic wund
1 Had touched tho growing plant, amt hul it bloom,
White privet starts and blossoms All the air
With Lugruncc. or the wayside flowers appear;
Tho earth itself gave forth a mellow smell
Of rich deep mould, the quickening breath ot Sprii
Ami all things told of light and life and love.
Then came my Linus like a pure white flower
To consecrate the promise of the year,
To All my life with l : ght; and then to fade
As quickly from my sight;—to wilt and fall
Before the blasting breath of Summer’s sun,
Leaving me but this cherished memory
Of Linus, gone -a well-beloved name.
O Linus, Linus! Wherefore didst thou come, *
If, being given, thou wort, so soon to fade?
In all thy palo and gentle tints and shades,
Thy perfect blush of color, and the hues
Presaging change and deepening with the year.
The rich rank Slimmer in its lusty growths,
Its strong deep colors, and the overflow
In plantand tree ot rie'i abundant life,
Cannot replace thee, cannot call thee buck ;
But fading, pining, wasting day by day,
I saw thy tender beauty fade away,
Nor could arrest for one short day, nor hour,
Tho doomed and fleeting current of thy life;
Thy bloom too delicate, thy force too l’mil;
Nature; too strong, too eager in her care
Of hardier growths to tend a wayside flower.
Now thou art gone —a memory and adretun ! *
O Linus, Linus! Wherefore wort thou given!
Thou too my child, my well-boloved son.
Granted to Earth, buL soon restored to Heaven ;
To Him by whom that transientlifo was given
Thine ever*hallowed prcscnco draws mo on.
Life ended, immortality begun
In one short season’s round ! Ailliction even
Urges mo onward to that peaceful luiven
Where thou art robedjn light, beloved one.
Too fair, too frail to meet this earthly strife,
Thou hast reached curly thine appointed end
Of perfect beauty, heavenly light and joy;
Hope mellowing bitter grief must guide my life
Till the eternal shall in pity send
His messenger to lead mo to my boy.