urden to the patient wave.

I sought thee in the later year,
I sought, but found thee there no more;
Only a rigid stalk and sere
A withered head in silence bore,
Or swung, responsive to the sigh
Of the stray wind that passed it by.

Now Severn's banks in snow are still,
And Severn's stream is hushed and pale;
The sun shines on the whitened hill,
And glows like summer in the dale;
And yet I come, and half in gloom
And half in joy recall thy bloom.

* * * * *

Reader--do you want

SOMETHING NEW FOR DINNER?

It is not necessary to refer to a cook book to know what an excellent
fish is the sheep's-head; you may find it in Noah Webster's large
dictionary, where it is described as "the Sargus Ovis of Mitchell;
esteemed delicious food"; or, you can find it in market.

Mr. Withers was married to a lovely young lady who once worked an entire
piano cover with worsted. They had commenced housekeeping but a few
months, when one morning the husband informed his wife that he should
invite a friend to dine with him that day.

Mrs. Withers was in despair at this announcement, but she smiled and hid
her grief; or at least her grief, in the shape of a Celtic cook, was at
that time not to be seen, being employed in the kitchen, where she had
invited two of her friends to "come in and ate."

Mr. Withers went down town; his wife then gave directions to the cook,
Biddy O'Shaughshenny by name, to buy a sheep's-head, beef, game, and so
forth.

'By the way, Bridget, have you ever cooked a sheep's-head before?'

'A shape's hid is it? Then I'm thinking, ma'am, I've cooked the likes of
them minny a time and oft in the owld counthry when I bided with Mister
Maginnis the grate counsillor in Dublin. I did.'

This was sufficient: Mrs. Withers was relieved of all care, and soon
wended her way out shopping and making calls, until nearly the dinner
hour. Home came Mr. Withers and friend, an Englishman by the name of
Molesworth, with keen appetites. The dinner was served; oysters and soup
finished, the waiter brought on a large dish covered.

'Ha, what have we here?' asked Withers, the husband.

'Something new, my dear,' answered Withers, the wife. 'I knew they were
in season, and I ordered it for a surprise.'

Withers lifted the cover!

There WAS a sheep's head--with horns on.

However a Sheep's Head is like a turbot--for a turbot--according to
Albert Smi