ng light;
The deer, upon the grassy mead,
Was feeding full in sight.

He raised the rifle to his eye,
And from the cliffs around
A sudden echo, shrill and sharp,
Gave back its deadly sound.

Away, into the neighboring wood,
The startled creature flew,
And crimson drops at morning lay
Amid the glimmering dew.

Next evening shone the waxing moon
As sweetly as before;
The deer upon the grassy mead
Was seen again no more.

But ere that crescent moon was old,
By night the red men came,
And burnt the cottage to the ground,
And slew the youth and dame.

Now woods have overgrown the mead,
And hid the cliffs from sight;
There shrieks the hovering hawk at noon,
And prowls the fox at night.

_W.C. Bryant._

Mount Vernon's Bells

Where Potomac's stream is flowing
Virginia's border through,
Where the white-sailed ships are going
Sailing to the ocean blue;

Hushed the sound of mirth and singing,
Silent every one!
While the solemn bells are ringing
By the tomb of Washington.

Tolling and knelling,
With a sad, sweet sound,
O'er the waves the tones are swelling
By Mount Vernon's sacred ground.

Long ago the warrior slumbered--
Our country's father slept;
Long among the angels numbered
They the hero soul have kept.

But the children's children love him,
And his name revere,
So where willows wave above him,
Sweetly still his knell you hear.

Sail, oh ships, across the billows,
And bear the story far;
How he sleeps beneath the willows,--
"First in peace and first in war,"

Tell while sweet adieus are swelling,
Till you come again,
He within the hearts is dwelling,
Of his loving countrymen.

_M.B.C. Slade._

Gradatim

Heaven is not reached at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to the summit round by round,

I count this thing to be grandly true:
That a noble deed is a step toward God,
Lifting a soul from the common sod
To a purer air and a broader view.

We rise by things that are under our feet;
By what we have mastered of good and gain,
By the pride deposed and the passion slain,
And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.

We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust,
When the morning calls us to life and light;
But our hearts grow weary, and ere he night
Our lives are trailing the sordid dust.

We hope, we resolve, we as