He modest merit sought to find, And pay it its desert: He had no malice in his mind, No ruffles on his shirt. His neighbors he did not abuse-- Was sociable and gay: He wore large buckles on his shoes. And changed them every day. His knowledge, hid from public gaze, He did not bring to view, Nor made a noise, town-meeting days, As many people do. His worldly goods he never threw In trust to fortune's chances, But lived (as all his brothers do) In easy circumstances. Thus undisturb'd by anxious cares. His peaceful moments ran; And everybody said he was A fine old gentleman. ALBERT GORTON GREENE. IDENTIFIED Nathaniel Hawthorne was a kind-hearted man as well as a great novelist. While he was consul at Liverpool a young Yankee walked into his office. The boy had left home to seek his fortune, but evidently hadn't found it yet, although he had crossed the sea in his search. Homesick, friendless, nearly penniless, he wanted a passage home. The clerk said Mr. Hawthorne could not be seen, and intimated that the boy was not American, but was trying to steal a passage. The boy stuck to his point, and the clerk at last went to the little room and said to Mr. Hawthorne: "Here's a boy who insists upon seeing you. He says he is an American, but I know he isn't." Hawthorne came out of the room and looked keenly at the eager, ruddy face of the boy. "You want a passage to America?" "Yes, sir." "And you say you're an American?" "Yes, sir." "From what part of America?" "United States, sir." "What State?" "New Hampshire, sir." "Town?" "Exeter, sir." Hawthorne looked at him for a minute before asking him the next question. "Who sold the best apples in your town?" "Skim-milk Folsom, sir," said the boy, with glistening eye, as the old familiar by-word brought up the dear old scenes of home. "It's all right," said Hawthorne to the clerk; "give him a passage." ONE BETTER Long after the victories of Washington over the French and English had made his name familiar to all Europe, Doctor Franklin chanced to dine with the English and French Ambassadors, when, as nearly as the precise words can be recollected, the following toasts were drunk: "England'--The _Sun_, whose bright beams enlighten and fructify the remotest corners of the earth." The French Ambassador, filled with national pride, but too polite to dispute the previous toast, drank the following: "France'--The _Moon_, whose mild, steady and cheering rays are the delight of all nations, consoling them in darkness and making their dreariness beautiful." Doctor Franklin then arose, and, with his usual dignified simplicity, said: "George Washington'--The Joshua who commanded the Sun and Moon to stand still, and they obeyed him." MY AUNT