length'ning path of life,
And we must think of love no more,
I am thy faithful wife.

FREEDOM'S HOME.

O freedom's home! thy banner streams,
A meteor on the gale;
And I behold the haughty flags
Of Europe fade and pale.
And, crowding on the surging sea,
They cleave the billows bright;
They come to rest beneath its folds,
Attracted by its light.

O freedom's home! forevermore
We'll join our hearts and hands,
To make thee bright with peaceful wealth,
The gem of richest strands:
But, if a tyrant e'er should threat,
This Eden of the free,
Dear home of freedom, we will bleed,
And yield our life for thee.

NATIVE MOUNTAINS.

Native Mountains! on your summits,
Stream the gleaming floods of day,
While a thousand silver cascades,
Leap within the early ray;
There amid your flowery valleys,
Stands the cot of her I love;
Clamb'ring o'er your rocky summits,
I behold it from above.

Native Mountains! how my bosom
Swells with happiness and pride,
When I gaze upon ye soaring
O'er your vales so green and wide.
All my wishes, all my pleasures,
Still are closely, sweetly bound,
To ye, lofty native Mountains,
With your valleys blooming round.

THE TRAIN IS COMING.

The train is coming, coming,
It whistles, don't you hear?
I saw the smoking engine,
And soon they will be here.
The train is coming, coming,
It is already here,
I think that handsome Willie,
I'm sure, he'll soon appear.

I've waited long to see him,
And thought the train was slow;
But now I see it stopping,
And Willie's come, I know.
I got, on Sunday morning,
The sweetest billet-doux,
It had a white envelope,
And his initials, too.

I read it, then I started,
To hear the sermon through,
But I could not hear the sermon,
For all that I could do.
For it said that he was coming,
Without mistake to-day,
That he was growing weary
Of things and folks away.

But list! the bell is ringing,
And here is Willie's card;
I'll meet him in the parlor,
For I am quite prepar'd,
To answer any questions
That Willie now may ask,
And then to serve and love him,
Will be my daily task.

LINES.

Far hath lovely Fanny flown,
O'er the mountains, o'er the sea;
All our peace with her hath gone,
We are wed to misery.

As the rainbow fades away,
As the short-lived spring departs,
Shone she brightly o'er our way,
Fled from our repining hearts.

Yet th