water that is past."

Oh! love thy God and fellowman, thyself consider last,
For come it will when thou must scan dark errors of the past;
Soon will this fight of life be o'er and earth recede from view,
And heaven in all its glory shine, where all is pure and true.
Ah! then thou'lt see more clearly still the proverb deep and vast,
"The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

_Sarah Doudney._

Why the Dog's Nose Is Always Cold

What makes the dog's nose always cold?
I'll try to tell you, Curls of Gold,
If you will good and quiet be,
And come and stand by mamma's knee.
Well, years and years and years ago--
How many I don't really know--
There came a rain on sea and shore,
Its like was never seen before
Or since. It fell unceasing down,
Till all the world began to drown;
But just before it began to pour,
An old, old man--his name was Noah--
Built him an Ark, that he might save
His family from a wat'ry grave;
And in it also he designed
To shelter two of every kind
Of beast. Well, dear, when it was done,
And heavy clouds obscured the sun,
The Noah folks to it quickly ran,
And then the animals began
To gravely march along in pairs;
The leopards, tigers, wolves and bears,
The deer, the hippopotamuses,
The rabbits, squirrels, elks, walruses,
The camels, goats, cats and donkeys,
The tall giraffes, the beavers, monkeys,
The rats, the big rhinoceroses,
The dromedaries and the horses,
The sheep, and mice and kangaroos,
Hyenas, elephants, koodoos,
And hundreds more-'twould take all day,
My dear, so many names to say--
And at the very, very end
Of the procession, by his friend
And master, faithful dog was seen;
The livelong time he'd helping been,
To drive the crowd of creatures in;
And now, with loud, exultant bark,
He gaily sprang abroad the Ark.
Alas! so crowded was the space
He could not in it find a place;
So, patiently, he turned about,
Stood half way in, half way out,
And those extremely heavy showers
Descended through nine hundred hours
And more; and, darling, at the close,
'Most frozen was his honest nose;
And never could it lose again
The dampness of that dreadful rain.
And that is what, my Curls of Gold,
Made all the doggies' noses cold.

The African Chief

Chained in the market-place he stood,
A man of giant frame,
Amid the gathering multitude
That shrunk to hear his name--
All stern of look and strong of limb,
His dark eye on the ground:--
And