And I shall hope to meet thee In the sinless land on high, Where we can lisp in tones of love The language of the sky. Oh! I shall be waiting, mother dear! And watching all the while, To greet again, with happy heart, The sunbeam of thy smile. * * * * * ON A DIAMOND RING. BY CHARLES E. TRAIL. Rare is the diamond’s lustre, and the mine No richer treasure hath than yellow gold; Yet were its jewels of a price untold, Still dearer charms this little ring doth shrine. Circling thy taper finger, how divine Its lot; oft to thy fair cheek prest, And by such contact past expression blest, Or sparkling ’mid those sunny locks of thine! Oh! these are uses which might consecrate The basest metal, or the dull, vile earth; Enhance the diamond’s price, or elevate The clod to an inestimable worth. Would that so dear a gem, which thus hath shone Upon thy snowy hand, might ever bless my own! * * * * * THE RECLUSE. NO. I. BY PARK BENJAMIN. In the series of papers (and they will have the rare merit of being short) which I am about to offer to the reader, I shall not so far follow the ill fashion of the day as to strive to be “original.” I do not mean by this remark to signify that I shall not give my own thoughts in my own way. But I shall not twist the English language out of all shape and comeliness; I shall not Germanize and Frenchize and Italianize; I shall express my ideas in the simplest possible words; I shall always choose the Saxon rather than the Norman; I shall endeavor to write so that “he who runs may read.” Were I a teacher of youth, I should recommend as the best models of style Swift and Southey, Addison, Steele, Channing, Sir James Macintosh, Irving, not Carlyle, Gibbon, Johnson, Emerson. I set plain Nature above gorgeous Art. The epithet “natural” conveys to my mind the highest praise of verse or prose. A style may indeed be eminently artistic, but still appear to be natural. I have said enough to show the manner in which I shall try to convey my ideas. Fewer words will set forth the character of my matter.