The Portland daily press., 1879-02-22

for am at home again. and the hour is fair.
Joy is vulgar, is it not?
Elf. Oh no. Joy is good.
Jul. Good, and sweet, and sad, and so
evil.
Elf. You are mocking me again. think.
But surely it is true that joy and sorrow are
very near together, are one in some sort are
for us SO blended and intermingled, that we
can no more sever one from another than the
tuberose from its scent.
Jul. knew it. Evil is sad, and sad is
sweet, and sweet is good. But no more
gladness, which is scarce better than
l jolity. We must be sadly. sweetly,
l seriously joyous. 1t shall be SO TO-
l morrow. Tomorrow 1 will begin to learn.
l To morrow I will TO school. To morrow, to-
l morrow, tomorrow. But today To-day
! I am SO deeply, unutteraby glad Of the good
/ IL earth, where angels might gather in the
l corn. Think of me as one who will do better,
as one who has kept bad company for years;
l do you wag your tail at me, sir9 1 said bad
company, Aurelian; nay,pat him not, Elfrida,
for he is Philistine, and must be chastened.
He is happy with bone, sorry with beat,
l ing. Tomorrow will give him bone and
beating at the same time, thus complicate
bis emotions, thus begin his education.
Down, you fantastic pup!-Elfrida, this grove
intoxicates me. 1t is not long since an Elf
ran wild here, leaping in the heather, laugh
ing to the air, darting through the shadows
like truant sunbeam fresh from heaven.
Elf. Do you remember those old days?
Jul. That is better. There is the old
color in 3our cheeks. Do you ever run
now?
Elf Sometimes, but not now. NJ. La
cave is painting me, and he likes me to be
pale.
Jul. Would ne were pale, very pale!
| You are too rare to fade, too
Elf. Julius, what is the matter with the
dog?
Jul. He has found mares nest: know
that air of preternatural sagacity. Lead on,
Aurelian; we follow thee, Hush! Look
here! Scarce ten yards from where we sat !!
Is not this day of enchantment?
Elf Hush! Poor child, how sound he
/ sleeps.
Jul. A little tramp Of Italy, and jolly
little fellow.
Elf. he has crept in here from off the
hard road of life. Don't wake him, Julius.
Jul. Not l. Do you think would mar
such slumber? Look how evenly the breath
stirs the torn shirt on his breast, and how
easily he lies, his knees a little bent, as if he
would curl himself like some soft-coated
animal warm in the heather! Did an eagle
let him fall?
Elf How beautiful is the soft olive face
lying on the outstretched arm! and look at
the lashes-how long they are on the cheek !
Poor child! The path before him must be
rough for those little feet. Poor child, poor
child!
Jul. Not so poor, neither. Is sleep like
that worth nothing? See how he smiles, and
the humorous wrinkle between the eyebrows,
and the warm blood in the cheek! 1t is a
child's cheek, round and soft; but the jaw is
firm enough. Such a one moves we'll and
cheerily among the chances of life. No fear
for him. He was born in happy hour.
Elf. How beautiful he is, astray from a
poets Italy. fragrant of the wine-press, and
eloquent of most delicate music!
Jul. Yet should he wake, that rustic bag
pipe would be doubtless discordant. Sleep,
little one, in good sweet northern heather
sleep, little Ampelus, out of the swinging
vines. Sleep, vagrant poem, not Ampelus
for now 1 bethink me, E!frida, this is the
very god of love.
Elf. Poor little child of the south!
Jul. Bad grandchild OF the southern sea.
lovely and capricious, with malice in her
smiles. Wake him not or tremble. Elves OF
the wood a-many have confessed bis power.
See how the dog trembles. Away!
Elf. Can we do nothing for him, Julius ?
Jul. Nothing. But stay. There is a
book of antique lore that says to those who
chance to find Eros asleep, that, be they
many or few, one or two, each must sing the
| III.
l therefore in this upturned little brown
hand place this halt.crown. Do you take
this, its fellow, and do likewise.
Elf. shall never pay you, julius.
Jul. You never can. So half the charm
is done. Now, sit you here upon this tiny
knoll. | will lie here on the other side. So
our theme lies between us. Do you begin
the song.
Elf. (stngS)-
Deep in the pleasant heather;
Wake him not lest ye weep
Through the long winter weather;
And sorrow bud again in spring,
| With apple blossoming,
And bloom in the garden co-e,
With blooming Of the rose,
And We, ere We be old,
| Die with the brief pale gold
| And when the leaves are shed,
| Ye too lie dead.
jul. No fear of waking this vagrant Love.
How fast he sleeps.
| ELI. What utter wearinessI
Jul. What splendid health! (sings)-
Oh, merry the day in the whispering wood,
Where here the boy Love lies sleeping;
| An Ell her watch is keeping!
Oh she was queen of the elfn race,
| And flower of fairy land!
The squirrel stood to look in her face,
And the wild dove came to her hand
But her fairies had given a gift more fair
Than any that elves or ladies wear,
Unbought at any mart
woman's heart.
Boys and maidens passing by
Be ye wise and let Love lie!
There's never word than this more wise
In all the old PHILOSOPHERS.
Hush your song this summer day
Lest he wake and bid YOU stay;
Hush and haste away,
Haste away.
Away!
Elf. And we too must be going. for look
how long the shadows of the reapers lie along
the land. How sad so sweet day must
end!
JUL. And are not others coming better
than this?
Elf. Who can sayp Ah. yesl will be-
lieve that they are coming.
Jul. That is wise, Elfrida. That is brave
ly said. Look how the sunlight comes like a
touches he poor chlld's cheek, and you stoop
to kiss the place. That is well done. Did
you see how he smiled and moved in his
sleep? He will wake soon with the even
ing light about him, to find wealth in his
little brown hand, and in his heart the
dream of young queens kiss.
Elf Come. 1t is time to go home.
Jul. And after our many Journeys by land
and sea, is there still home for us? Arise
Aurelian come, good pup, and follow our
gracious lady home.
WALTON, Cass 90, , Ind. april 10Th 1876.
r. V. PIERCE. M. D.:
Dear Sir-Your Pleasant Purgatve Pellets
are the most efficient, yet mild, cathartic evel
used. They have cured me of Indigestion, liver
complaint, and constipation.
Yours truly,
FRANK WILLARD.
COPARTNERSHIP.
Dissolution.