en came the king’s son, wounded, sore bestead,
    And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,
    Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,
    And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout
    Lifted afresh, he hewed his enemy down,
    And saved a great cause that heroic day.
         --EDWARD ROWLAND SILL.




        TO-DAY


[Illustration: THOMAS CARLYLE]

    So here hath been dawning
      Another blue day;
    Think wilt thou let it
      Slip useless away?

    Out of eternity
      This new day is born,
    Into eternity,
      At night, will return.

    Behold it aforetime
      No eye ever did;
    So soon it forever
      From all eyes is hid!

    Here hath been dawning
      Another blue day;
    Think, wilt thou let it
      Slip useless away?
         --THOMAS CARLYLE.




        AN ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS


Many years ago there stood a town in Italy, at the foot of Mount
Vesuvius, which was to Rome what Brighton or Hastings is to London--a
very fashionable watering-place, at which Roman gentlemen and members of
the senate built villas, to which they were in the habit of retiring
from the fatigues of business or the broils of politics. The outsides of
all the houses were adorned with frescoes, and every shop glittered with
all the colors of the rainbow. At the end of each street there was a
charming fountain, and any one who sat down beside it to cool himself
had a delightful view of the Mediterranean, then as beautiful, as blue,
and as sunny as it is now. On a fine day, crowds might be seen lounging
here; some sauntering up and down in gala dresses of purple, while
slaves passed to and fro, bearing on their heads splendid vases; others
sat on marble benches, shaded from the sun by awnings, and having before
them tables covered with wine, and fruit, and flowers. Every house in
that town was a little palace, and every palace was like a temple, or
one of our great public buildings.

On entering one of these mansions, the visitor passed through a
vestibule decorated with rows of pillars, and then fo