To this day it is a matter of wonder to Jacob Jones why he could never get along in the world like some people; and he has come to the settled conviction that it is his "luck." THE DARLING. BY BLANCHE BENNAIRDE. When first we saw her face, so dimpled o'er With smiles of sweetest charm, we said within Our inmost heart, that ne'er on earth before Had so much passing beauty ever been: So full of sweetest grace, so fair to see-- This treasure bright our babe in infancy. Like blush of roses was the tint of health O'erspread her lovely cheeks; and they might vie In beauty with the fairest flower--nor wealth, Though told in countless millions, e'er could buy The radiance of this gem, than aught more bright Which lies in hidden mine, or saw the light. The dawn of life was fair; so was its morn; For with each day new beauties met our view, And well we deemed that she, the dear first-born, Might early fade, like flowers that earth bestrew With all their cherished beauty, leaving naught But faded leaves where once their forms were sought. She smiled upon us, and her spirit fled To taste the pleasures of that fairer land, Where angels ever dwell--she is not dead; But there with them her beauteous form doth stand, Arrayed in flowing light, before the throne Of Him whose name is Love--the Holy One. She was our choicest bud, our precious flower; But now she blooms in that celestial place, Where naught can spoil the pleasure of an hour, Nor from its beauty one bright line efface-- Where all is one perpetual scene of bliss, Unmixed with sin; all perfect happiness. The darling then is safe, secure from ill; Why should we mourn that she hath left this earth, When in that brighter land she bloometh still, A flower more perfect, of celestial birth? Let us submit, and own His righteous care Who doeth well; striving to meet her there. BATTLE OF FORT MOULTRIE.[1] BY CHARLES J. PETERSON.