race;
But shall leave it laurels ever
To bedeck its resting place.

'Tis the maiden who shall win them
Walks in virtue's modest way,
Heeding not the world's gay treasure,
Minding not the worldling's way.

Not the maiden who rejoiceth
To abound in vaunting show;
This shall in the time forsake her,
When her hope hath sunken low.

MY SCHOOLMATES.

Oh! where have all my schoolmates gone,
With whom I used to play,
In harmless sport and happy glee,
For many a pleasant day?

It grieves me much whene'er I think
That I no more may see
The happy faces of the few
Who schoolmates were to me.

To seek them would be fruitless toil;
I know not where they are;
For up and down the world wide
They're scattered near and far.

Some still are in the native place,
Some far beyond the sea,
Some trading on the mighty main,
Some in eternity.

THE DEPARTED YEAR.

Farewell, departed year!
How swiftly have thy golden moments fled!
Gone to the past,
In the dark lays of record to repose;
Whence might be culled a tale
Which would impeach our name--
The way we spent the precious hours,
Whereof to learn we shudder, in the thought
That they passed from us as a worthless thing,
While all our heed to idleness was lent.
Recall the olden deeds,
Review the acts performed, and see
How they will bear the scrutiny ye give.
How do the deeds of ill
Throng round the retrospective glance!
While few and feeble are the acts of truth.
Where is the profit we have gained?
Or where the good a brother took from us?
Let us not spurn the many warnings shewn.
Who may not from the ranks of friendship glean
One name, or more, in sacred reverence held,
Of some dear friend, departed now,
But who, while we gave welcome to the year just gone,
Was with us, and who held
A love deep rooted in our hearts,
And who, we once had hope,
Would seasons more remain to comfort us.
The present ours.
May we of wisdom learn the way to live;
For who can know that we may live
To see this year depart, or see another come?
Now let us to the year departed say farewell;
For it has gone, with all its joys and cares,
Which, ere we knew, moved from our presence, and
Another came; which in the old seat sits, whereof
We wonder what its course may yield,
And all around mysterious fancies rise.
But darkness o'er the scene a curtain holds,
And veils from view what is upon the time
Which is