nts ran;
And everybody said he was
A fine old gentleman.

ALBERT GORTON GREENE.

IDENTIFIED

Nathaniel Hawthorne was a kind-hearted man as well as a great novelist.
While he was consul at Liverpool a young Yankee walked into his office.
The boy had left home to seek his fortune, but evidently hadn't found it
yet, although he had crossed the sea in his search. Homesick,
friendless, nearly penniless, he wanted a passage home. The clerk said
Mr. Hawthorne could not be seen, and intimated that the boy was not
American, but was trying to steal a passage. The boy stuck to his point,
and the clerk at last went to the little room and said to Mr. Hawthorne:
"Here's a boy who insists upon seeing you. He says he is an American,
but I know he isn't." Hawthorne came out of the room and looked keenly
at the eager, ruddy face of the boy. "You want a passage to America?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you say you're an American?"

"Yes, sir."

"From what part of America?"

"United States, sir."

"What State?"

"New Hampshire, sir."

"Town?"

"Exeter, sir."

Hawthorne looked at him for a minute before asking him the next
question. "Who sold the best apples in your town?"

"Skim-milk Folsom, sir," said the boy, with glistening eye, as the old
familiar by-word brought up the dear old scenes of home.

"It's all right," said Hawthorne to the clerk; "give him a passage."

ONE BETTER

Long after the victories of Washington over the French and English had
made his name familiar to all Europe, Doctor Franklin chanced to dine
with the English and French Ambassadors, when, as nearly as the precise
words can be recollected, the following toasts were drunk:

"England'--The _Sun_, whose bright beams enlighten and fructify the
remotest corners of the earth."

The French Ambassador, filled with national pride, but too polite to
dispute the previous toast, drank the following:

"France'--The _Moon_, whose mild, steady and cheering rays are the
delight of all nations, consoling them in darkness and making their
dreariness beautiful."

Doctor Franklin then arose, and, with his usual dignified simplicity,
said:

"George Washington'--The Joshua who commanded the Sun and Moon to stand
still, and they obeyed him."

MY AUNT

My aunt! my dear unmarried aunt!
Long years have o'er her flown;
Yet still she strains the aching clasp
That binds her virgin zone;
I know it hurts her--though she looks
As ch