“Allow me, ladies,” replied the doctor, “to finish this narrative in my own manner—every thing shall be told in its place; I am relating the events in the order in which they happened.” [_Conclusion in our next._ * * * * * BRAIN WORK AND HAND WORK. BY CHARLES STREET. In a garret cold and dreary Sat a laborer deep in thought, And his brow looked worn and weary. As though hardly he had wrought; And I watched his throbbing brain, Like a wild bird to be free, Struggling to fly back again To its cageless liberty— And the muscles and the fibres, And the flesh upon the bone, Like a mass of burning embers Self-consumingly they shone. And I turned my vision backward To the scenes of other days, While the sword within the scabbard Of the mind yet feebly lays; Ere the boy, grown into manhood, Felt the cravings of his soul, Ere keen hunger shivering stood On his threshold crying _fool_! For the midnight oil he’d wasted Scanning books o’er page by page, For neglect of luxuries tasted In this money-making age. And I saw an infant sleeping, Softly pillowed by the side Of a widowed mother weeping, Fearing death might take its guide, And to stranger hands and cold Leave the darling of her heart; To the swearer—to the scold— ’Mid the rocks without a chart— God of mercy! help the helpless, Teach them how to earn their bread; Oh to trust alone—’tis madness— To the labor of the head. By the willing arm that fails not, By the workings of the hand, In this free and hallowed spot, In this great and mighty land, Where before us rivers deep, Forests wide and mountains high, Where, beneath the rocky steep, Treasures all exhaustless lie, By a will of stern resolve, Making all things own his sway, Man may thus the mystery solve How to live—while live he may. Not to fling away existence, Toiling early—toiling late— Not to succumb for subsistence, Calling penury your fate. Brain alone will not support thee— Trace the history of the past— Study well and study deeply, You will find the truth at last. Brain and Hand and Hand and Brain, Let each urge the other on, And—_the dollars_ shall again Reward thee when thy work is done. * * * * * THE GENERAL COURT AND JANE ANDREWS’ FIRKIN OF BUTTER. BY SEBA SMITH, THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR OF MAJOR DOWNING.