They prayed, as prayed the prophet seer On Carmel’s summit high, When the little cloud rose from the sea And blackened all the sky. And when around the spireless church Night’s length’ning shadows fell, The customary song went up With clear and rapturous swell: And as each heart was thrilling to That simple chant sublime, The rude, brown rafters of the roof Woke to a joyous chime. The rain! the rain! the blessed rain! It came like Hemnon’s dew, And watered every field and wood, And kissed the surges blue. Oh! when that Pilgrim band came forth And pressed the humid sod, Shone not each face as Moses’ shone When “face to face” with God? ----- [1] For the narrative of the historical fact related in this poem, the reader is referred to “Cheever’s Journal of the Pilgrims.” * * * * * TO MY MOTHER IN HEAVEN. BY THOMAS FIZGERALD, EDITOR CITY ITEM. Dear mother, in the silent hours of night, When stars around me shed their chastened light, I think of thee, and mourn thou art not here, With smile to bless, and kindly word to cheer. Ah, mother, life is but a thorny way; When longest, ’tis at best a little day; A gleam of sunshine, and anon a cloud, The bridal robe, soon followed by the shroud. Dear mother, sadness fills my sleepless eye, And tears fast follow the unconscious sigh, But still the heart, o’erwhelmed with heavy grief, In thought of thee, dear mother, finds relief. Dear mother, be thou still the watchful guide, In honor’s path, of him who was thy pride; So shall my feet, from snares of error free, Tread only paths of truth, toward Heaven and thee. * * * * * THE DREAM OF MEHEMET. AN APOLOGUE. BY RICHARD PENN SMITH. Thus spoke the gray-haired dervise. Selim was left to my care; his dying parents bequeathed him an ample fortune, and their example of virtue and affection. Such was his inheritance. He was a dreamy boy, in whose soul the opposite passions reveled. Gentle as the dove, yet, under aggression, fierce as the tiger. He loved as angels love; hated as fiends hate. Framed as delicately as the gazelle, yet every sinew was endowed with the tenacity of steel. At the age of manhood, I, his old preceptor, bowed to the superior endowments of my pupil, but knew not the fountain of his knowledge.