Savannah courier. (Savannah, Tenn.) 1885-1979, 1893-04-13

Coming back to my home,
That Is dtarcr than ever;
10 the strong and the bcauNul ties
That no fortune can sever
Coming back TO the love
OF tho dear ones that miss me.
Tho darllngs 80 dear TO my heart
That will welcome and kiss me-
Coming back to the warmth
or my chidren's caresseG
To the ire.light and home-light that cheers
While II comforts and blosses,
Coming back 10 the place
Where deception noer fingers;
Where truth weavcs tho web Of our life
With delicate fingers.
Coming back 10 sweet home"
With It's cares and pleasures;
spot that would not exchange
For carths richest treasures
Mrs. NJ A. kiddcr, In N. Y, Ledger
The Fellow who Means What He says.
There is one whom you ever may trust
AS you travel o'cr life's varied ways,
Who viii strive TO be honest and just
He's the fellow who means what he says
He Is not one 10 lead you astray;
On his word you may always depend;
When he owes, he is sure 10 repay,
And he never goes back on friend
What he scorns to the last is the lie;
What he holds TO his heart is the truth;
All temptation he well may defy
Who will keep TO this rule in his youth
To be truc-nll is thereto be truo
You will find in the end that 1t pays;
Search your heart, and he certain that you
Are the fellow who means what he says
George Birdseye. in Golden Days
Gratitude.
The day was wet and comfortless:
Tho ceasoloss, drowsy rain
Splashcd on the window pane
And blurred the cloud that, like shroud,
Palled all tho earth In dreariness
Hope, weeping, took her silent fight
A dismal discomfort
Was with our spirits bleht;
And Doubt said 'Ceasel There is no peace,
For love is naught There is no lightf
In Quictness our baby stood
And gravcly scanned the skies.
Then, with glad surprise,
Said, with q nod; "Oh' Thank you, God,
For letting out the sun You're good"
The world grew bright; the batlike brood
or ycnomel fances fed,
And with my daughters head
Pressed TO my breast came peace and rcst
!, too, said. THANK you, God You're good
w f Nichols, in Chicago Graphic
Wonder Whyi
lwondcr why. whcnc'er pass her way,
Tho lnrlrpgt nipht changed tn bridhtHqt
day.
And why her voice falls with a cadehce sweet
Upon my oar-why moments are so feet
When Oft to mine she 5hyly lifts her eyes,
Earth seems TO me like one vast paradise
wcnder Why
| wonder why she trembes when with me-
And like some frightened bird would quickl!
fee
/ whisper to her. Love, we ne'or shall part"
And feel tho wild pulsation OF her heart.
while claspily her IN one long, fond embrace
She tries to hide the bushes on her face
wonder why
Mary Kidder in Yankee Blade.
Tho Commercial Traveller.
His homo is in the sleeping car.
No vine or zig trees shade
His music Is its clanking wheels,
His poetry is trade
This missionary Of the mart
lie spreads the true faiths germs,
The endless merits Of his house
AboN all other firms
He buttonholes the kings OF trade,
His sample case unrolls,
And talks until the love Of life
Grows feeble in their souls
Tho bolted doors swing wide for him.
&c hccds no locks nor bars,
And fears not any face Of man
Beneath tho sun or stars.
The heroes of baronial times
Wcro armed from hair 10 heel
With iron pots upon their heads
Ard pan falcons OF steel,
The hustler hero Of to-day
Is armorles5 and weak,
But for the viGor OF his tongue,
And blushless breadth Of cheek.
He meets all men with fearless mien,
Nor knows 10 pause or swerve,
With Liliputian bashtulness
And Drobdignagian nerve,
No dim distractions vex his soul:
His creed and happiness
Ia Just 10 make q sale and catch
The two o clock express