BY A. D. WILLIAMS. What if the snowy drapery Of winter clothe the earth, And rude “north-westers” chase thee To the quiet fireside hearth? And if the sportive wildness Of others please thee not; If summer’s balmy mildness Comes not from grove or grot? If in the narrowed towers Of granite walls and gray, Thy spirit mourns the flowers, Through all the live-long day? The muses still are beaming Their radiance on thy way; With light and beauty gleaming— Dread shadows flit away. And Art the breast is filling With generous impulse, free; The Poet’s lyre is thrilling The soul with melody. The student’s vigil proffers The hope-lit spirit’s aim; And honored duty offers What truth and virtue claim. And friendship true is smiling In confidence and joy, The lonely hours beguiling. With sweet and loved employ. Nor think that oft it fadeth, On earth’s cold chilling stream, Through many a heart pervadeth, More than a “poet’s dream!” And should thy soul be weary Of mundane joys and ill, Yet think not winter dreary, For heaven the soul can thrill. Bright, strong-winged Hope is pointing In gladness to the skies, And Faith, with Heaven’s anointing, Bids brighter visions rise. Then, call not winter dreary, Sigh not for summer’s joy, Nor let thy soul be weary With dutiful employ. * * * * * THE RUMSEYS: OR THE PEOPLE WHO KNEW EVERY BODY AND WHOM NOBODY KNEW. BY AGNES L. GORDON. “My dear Mrs. Armitage, I am delighted to see you; I have just this moment heard of your return, and hastened to claim the privilege of an old friend, in being the first to welcome you home again.” So saying, little Mrs. Grey carefully navigated her way amid the piles of trunks and band-boxes that strewed the hall, and warmly saluted her friend, who was superintending the arrangement of the baggage. After the first greetings were over, Mrs. Armitage led her visiter into the drawing-room, that looked cheerless enough, draped in brown Holland and shrouded in gloom. When the ladies were seated upon one of the veiled divans, Mrs. Armitage said— “I need not apologize to you, my dear Mrs. Grey, for the disorder in which you find me. We have but just arrived, and the covers are not yet removed from the furniture—nothing is in readiness for our reception, because our return is entirely unexpected. Mr. Armitage was obliged to be in the city, or we should have staid at least a fortnight longer. I am quite at a loss to know how you should so soon have heard of our arrival.”