Poetry.

MADELINE.

Sigh for gentle Madelino, Sleeping 'mong the flowers, Ere the genial Christmas time, Crowns the summer hours. JSveiy one loved Madeline, Innocent and fair, Fair as spotless lily-bells, Waving in the air. Silken curls had Madeline, CHisfcening golden showers, Faiiy -1 coves beaming bright, Beauty's Lure1., bowers. Eyes like stars had Madeline, 'Blue as summer skies, Silver sounding was her voice, Soft as Zephyr's sighs. Weep for lovely Madeline, Faded like a dreau . She has passed us like a barque, Gliding down the stream, John Blacjcman.

O, WHO WOULD DARE TO LOVE!

0. who would dare to love In such a world as this, Where under-tones of grief Breathe in e--ieh soag of bliss; Where gom;. we prize to-day To-morrow dust may prove, And in our grasp decay — O who would dare to love ! 0, who would dare to love la such a world as ours, Where blight and canker lurk Within the fairest flowers ? Where careless hands may gather, G. cruel death remove, The }>ua6 we fondly cherished — 0, wao would wish to love 1 Yet *. there hope for love Which never can depart, A home prepared by angels For ever f&i'.hful heart ; Where time, or death,or distance Can never more remove Tha blesdo. hearts united la G-od's own land of love I M. 0.

TO THE SMOKERS OF AUCKLAND.

This Indian weed vow withired quite, Thou"h "fesn at noon -out at night, Shows thy decay. All fiesh ia hay. Thu3 thi/ik, t-moke tobacco. The pips so lily-like r,nd weak, Does thua thy rv.>rt&l btate bespeak. Thou art . •■>a Eiica, Goas svi'.ii .1 touch ; Thus thiiik, aud smoke tobacco. And when the soioko asaonda on high. Then thou bEhold'ali tho vanity Of vtordly stuff — Gone with a puff ; Thus think, and smoke tobacco. And when tho pipe grows foul within, Think on thy soul doiiled with sin ; For then the fire It; cioes require ! Thus think and smoke tobacco : And sao'est the ashes, cast away ; Thea to thyself thou miy'eit say, That to the dust, Return thou must ! Thus think and smoke tobacco. —YOUNG CAMBRIDGE. Cambridge, Djc. 1876.

ANSWERED.

God bless you and keep you, my darh ng 1 So I said to you only lasc May, As we sat 'mid the ferns and the mosses In the woods of that sunny spring day. 'God bless you and keep you forever !' One ki.s aad we each turned away- Turned away from the ferns and the mosses In the woo in that morning in May. Oar life-paths thai Lhro' many summers So closely together had lain, Diverged oa that sunny spring morning, And widened apart o'er life's plain. Eutwelookel at; the heights far before us And rejoiced in tne sunshine that lay Illuming tha ferns aad the mosses In the woods that sunshinny day. You turned to the land of the sunset, And J. to my work 'mid the noise And toils of a village suhool-room, With its laughing girls and boys. I dreamed nob, O Angie, my darling, Row our father would answer my prayer ; How 3000 he would bless and keep you In themeavenly mansions fair. 1 God bleas and keep you forever !' Ah, darling, He will evermore ! But my tears are falling so thickly I see not the shining shore. 1 see not the throng of bright angels, Bat I know that our Angle is there, And I feci how in truest kindness Our Father thus answered my prayer. EMI. 18 LILIAN WHITING.

THE WEST WIND'S BURDEN.

A rtontlo wind of western birth, From some far summer sea, Wfekas the daisies in the wintry earth, Wak-i. thought of hope in me. lb.; sun i. low ; the paths nrejwefc,' And dauee with frolic hail ; The trves, whose spring-time is not yet, f.v_r>:. -..u:;in:{ in the gale. Yons i •'■ ••■ ■'■'■'■■ ■-'■ -ivjp.hin. peep and play; Thick y;-;hji-h crowd between , 'Tia Strange r,b «f. a;., a coining day The earth wiil all be green,

Michigan Rose

Bl r FLOEA MARCIAN

Two little boys of the street picked up a bunch of Michigan roses, defaced, bruised, trodden on, soiled with dust stains. Some country girl had dropped them from her bosom, for they were from a distance and not seen in any of the florists' shops. To tho children they were a miracle of bright ness, a revelation of another world, and they stood together on tho street as the crowd surged by, earnestly and intently examining the cluster of seven small pink roses and a bud. A girl passing by and attracted by the eager and interested look on.the childrens' faces, stopped to inquire what they were talking about. ' What is (his P It is a bunch of Michi gan roses,' said the girl with a twinkle in hsr eyes ; ' and it grows tali, away up to the sky, and all tho bush is like this cluster, pink, with yards and yards of flowers.' ' Sweet Michigan,' said both boys in the same breath, as the girl went on her way ; but from that day forth, as tho quest of the Holy Grail possessed Sir Galahad, so the search after Sweet Michigan possessed these orphan boys. By great perseverance in sweeping street-crossings, blacking boots, selling newspapers and many other bleak little contrivances known only to the children of want and destitution, they got together enough money to buy themselves each a white straw sailor-hat, with blue ribbon and a little gilt picture of au anchor, on one end of the streamer and a small picture of a sailing ship on the front. They bought cheap shoes and linen clothes also, through anxious hoarding and saving of pennies all summer long. They had. picked up all the information that they could about ' Sweet Michigan,' asking big newsboys in what direction that happy country lay. 'Oh, out over the Erie.' ' Delaware and Lackawanna is just as good,' responded another. ' Central with Lake Shore is best of all,' shouted a third. Tho children could not learn much, but what the little newsboys told them they remembered. ' Did you know,' said one bootblack to another, 'that Johnny and Sammy are goin' to emigrate ?' 'No; where they goin' ?? ' Wall, they're goin' out West, where roses grow, or suthin' o' that sort.' ' Their heads are kinder cracked, I think it's likely. And 'taint no wonder as I knows on. Last winter was a hard tin on bigger coves than they be.' ' They was always cJever creeters and busy as the day was long.' ' Yes ; and the littlest newsboys on the street.' ' They're agoin' to start in the mornin' ; we must see 'em off, Bill.' In the morning more than twenty news boys and sweepers ■ and bootblacks went down to the Erie to see the boys start on their journey. 'We must take a collection for 'em. Pass round the hat, boys-' ' No,' answered Johnny and Sammy, 'we are going to Sweet Michigan and shan't need any money. Keep it your selves.' ' If you get there before I do, remember me ; I am going, too,' sung Josh Bates. 'We will.' The boys got aboard a western express, their friends waved their hats and gave them a cheerful farewell the train was off, Johnny and Sammy had started on their new lives, ' Tickets, boys,' said the conductor. ' Yes, sir,' responded the cnildren, taking out a neatly folded brown paper from each vest pocket, and handing it to the agent. The packages contained exactly fifty cents apiece. They were the rem nants of the earnings of Johnny and Sammy. There were four five cent pieces, ! the rest was in pennies, two and three cents coins. The man looked down into those sunburned-happy faces. He read no story of misgiving there, but a confi dence and hope that was pleasant to see. ' Where did you say you were going ?' he asked. •Sweet Michigan, lisped the babies together. 'Is this all the money you have ? ' Yes, sir.' « Put it back in your pockets. You are running away, aren't you ?' 'Yes, sir.' ' I shall have to send you home. ' We're agoin' home, sir.' ' Where are your father and mother ? ' Both dead, sir.' Then the boys told the conductor the story of the rose, and the desire to go into the country of that sweet flower; of the summer's toil accomplished in this hope; of the hats, shoes and linen clothes, and lastly of the- money saved so anxiously and carefully. 'And you had better take it, sir, for we shan't need it where we're agoin'.' , c ' The loneliness, innocence ana youth or the boys touched the heart of the agent.

' How do I know but God's calling them there,' said he to himself. ' I am not agoing to do anything contrary to Him, or go agin Him in any way.' So ho took two tickets and wrote on them : Erie—Pass these boys along the line to Sweet Michigan, and order Lake Shore to do the same. Sam. So Johnny and Sammy were passed over the route, and their story was borne along with them. Travellers gave them food from their baskets. At night a motherly old lady folded shawls to put under their heads, covered them up and made them go to sleep in seats near her own. Sammy and Johnny really had a glimpse of paradise as they steamed along -Erie that day. An old farmer and his wife sat in the seat in front of tho boys. There was a small book-rack with one book in it between the two seats. The children had wanted to take it down all day and look at it, but they would not, for they were afraid their kind friend, tho conductor, would not like to have them, aud might think they were middlesome. So along toward night Johnny and jammy touched the old farmer's coat-sleeve. .4'Wall, lads,' said tho farmer, kindly, ' what do you w_>nt ?' ' Will you please tell us what this is ?' ' Why, good Lord, boys, that's a Bible. Didn't you know what is was ?' ' No, sir.' « Can't you read ?' ' No, sir.' ' Now, Marier, I call that a shame after all the school tax I pay, them air two babies can't read. Shall 1 read somothing to you out of it ?' ' Yes, sir ; if you please,' The old man took out his spectacles, wiped them on his red silk handkerchief, took the Bible from the rack, and read on the outside ; * Tho American Bible Society presents this copy of the Holy Scriptures to the Erie Railroad Company.' ' Mighty polite, I call that, Marier. Who can say after this that corporations don't have any souls P' Then he opened the book and read the first verse on which his eyes rested : * Inasmuch as ye have done it to ono of the least of those ye have done it to mo., And again he read : ' When my father and mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.' 'It's kind a affectin' to mo, Marier. I can't read it to the boys. You tako the book and road 'era something they will like to hear. When I was a boy 1 liked the story of Jonah dreadfully; but I always kinder spleened agin him arter the whaie swollered him.' Then Marier read several pleasant stories, one about Joseph and his brethren, and one about the child who answered the wise men in the temple. After the boys were asleep the old farmer said to his wife : ' Marier, if t didn't think the Lord was a-takin' on 'em up I would do some thin' for 'em, but I believe he is agoin' to sec to 'em, and I won't meddle with 'em.' In the night the boys waked up and whispered together. '■ It's a very good place to be on the Erie. Sammy." ' Yes, they are all so good to us. 1 hey aren't tho same kind that used to be in the city.' 'I don't know —there's some awlul good ones there. There's that girl who told us where the roses grew, there's Josh, and tho p'liceman was always good to us, and wo could sleep in the station when we couldn't sleep anywhere else. 'I don't mean that kind; I mean the swell ones.' ' Well, they were pretty good, too, especially on Sunday, Sammy.' ' Wall, conductor,' said the farmer, " me and Marier must git off at the next station; our ways don't run no further together.' ' I'd like to know what becomes ot those boys; two children agoin to the | Lord knows where ; curus now ain't it P | Bound to go to Sweet Michigan, yet nothin' to go to there as anybody knows on. I'd a-took 'em along to Kansas, but Kansas won't do, I'm sure on't. Mark jmy words, conductor, the Lord's a-takin lon 'em up. And it's time, if Idu say it. i Good day, conductor; if you ever come j our way, call. Bays, when you git hum I want you to drop a line to John Hedley, Onion Creek, Kansas. Good day to all on ye,' nodded Farmer Hedley, to the passengers. Come along, Marier; we must be a-gettin hum.' Along the level of the prairie the sun burned red and warm. Acres of wheat I were cut and gathered into ricks that I looked like little old women with their 1 bonnets on. There also were sweet ricks of pink buckwheat, and the stubble land i where the butfkwheat had grown was pink i too. A very large orchard of young apple trees was in full bearing. the sunshine falling on the ripening fruit made them seem yet yellower, redder and riper. A little rill ran aloug the roadside for a short distance, then crossed the highway and trickled down through a meadow whose greenness showed the

second growth of the year. Great flocks of hens turkeys and ducks gave animation to the farm. The great barn doors were wide open, and out of them issued the sweet scent of newly cut clover and timothy. Across the road, opposite the barn, a fine stock of cows waited to be milked. They stood quietly chewing their cud as Johnny and Sammy came to the yard by the roadside where they were. ' Will they hurt us, Sammy ?' 'No, they arc gentle croatures ; I know by their gentle eyes.' The farmhouse was a pleasant building, a story and a half high. The doors and windows were open. The path that led from the house to the gate was bordered with camomile and China asters, with some bright nasturtiums. But over the portico by the front door there crept a magnificent vine of Michigan roses. Its time of blossoming was long since past, but a few clusters starred the green boughs. Both boys saw it and recognized the flowers at once. 'It is the place,' say the boys ; ' Sweet Michigan,' and opening the gate they walked into the yard. They rapped on tho open door and a sad-looking woman advanced to meet them. ' Come in, children.' she said, very gently and sweetly. ' Is this tho place ?' inquired Sammy and Johnny. ' Yes, I think so.' 'We are so glad to get here.' I hen in answer to her ouestion, they told their oft repeated story : ' But we were so glad when we saw the rose.' 'Take off your hats and come out to ' the trough nnd I will brush your hair and wash your faces, and when father comes in from the field we will have supper.' So when she had washed their faces the boys saw a pet lamb in the yard, and wanted to play Trith it, Mr. Laly coming across the field saw the little lads, and wondered whose children they were. His wife met him at the gate, and told him what they had told her. 'And I think, husband, God has sent us something to love. They can never be like our own dear children, I know, but it is so lone some.' 'They must be queer little fellows, Sally. You say it was the rose that brought them to our door ?' 'Yes, the same slip that Sally brought from mother's, and you planted it for her by the portico.' • Well, let us go to supper now. C;dl the children ; if we like them wo will keep them. Johnny and Sammy never before saw real plenty. The loaf of wheat, delicious butter, cream and peaches, the cake and honey, were all new. The affluence of the farmer's house astonished them. In the buttery they saw long, shining rows of milk-pans full to tho brim, rolls of butter ready for market, and baskets of (> cr rr g, *So, boys,' said Parmer Laly. after supper, 'you thought you would come out here and live by the Michigan rose ?' 'Yes, sir.' ' And you like it ?' ' Yes,'sir.' . ' Well, you can live here with me it you want to.' ' Forever P' ' Yes. You can call Aunt Sally there, mother, and if you like mo for a father you can call me so. Now, boys, lam going to milk the cows : come and see them. The winter had been one of the sickness among children . diphtheria and scarlet fever had robbed many a home of its little ones, and among those most afflicted were Mr. and Mrs.' Laly. Of their three children, not one was spared them. Ibis it was that made their hearts so tender to the strangers who camo seeking 'Sweet Michigan.' From this day forth they became Johnny and Sammy Laly. Aunt Sally taught them. In their sweet home we leave them, thinking that thoreto they were guided by some angel of the Lord, perhaps little Sally herself and a crushed cluster of withering Michigan roses.

Farinl announces that he has taken out two separ ate patents f _-r a cannon to shoot a person out of. A new signification will evidently be soon attached t_ the discharge ot any erratic member of tho Farini company. He has shown his invention to Prince Bismarck, who is probably coy Bidding whether this peculiar cannon will enable him to li. c off a regiment of soldiers into a fortress, and so astonish the garri son. Victor Hus.o, when about to make his journey in Germany, which innpired hia book, 'The Rhino," called at the oltice for his passports, when the follow conversation tookpiaoe, with .he clerk : 'Your name if you please? 'Victor Hugo.' 'Age?' Thirty threo,' 'P.ofession V The poet lifted proudly his Olympian front and vepiied with majeßt/ 'Founder or my school.' 'Very well. Write (turning to a clerk)—write out a passport for M. Victor Hugo ; age thirty-thrt-e; school-teacher.' Whether or siet.the rain .alisupon t^e just or the un just depends upon tho fact as to which has the best utnberclla. Little Girl: 'Ohplease, sir, I'vobrought your shirt 'oine Ibut mother says sha can t wash it no more, 'ccs was obliged io paßie it up agon thb wall and chuok soapsuds at it, it was no tender,' Adam aud Eveos.apr-d two serious annoyance, cf modern lovers In r.lio fir•>. place, Eve h .i _.o nuMiua to make judicious inqaiuc.. as to Adam's social posi tion &i<d prospects of matrimony, and Adam had nq 'govarner' to _<.. that he did not n.a..y sop. portion less girl.

THE HAPPY FROG.

Thus the perspiring editor of the Boston ' Globe' discourses on the comfortable life of a frog :—

' We feol impressed during these fervid days,' says the writer, ' that it would be nice to be a frog. So far as we know, the frog never toils, and we feel quite certain that he doth not spin; but he goes in swimming whenever he feels like it, and he has a passion that way that the most restless school-boy can hardly emu late. What could be more refreshing than to plunge to the bottom of a cool pond, when the summer sun is fierce and vindictive, and there meditate on the advantages of amphibiousnessP What a luxurious place would the bottom of a lake bo for passing ones Fourth of July in peace and quiet! Oh ! that we were a frog. And the youthful batrachian lives in a perpetual summer retreat, in sedgy streams and by purling springs, in the cool shade of the umbrageous trees and among tho tall grasses swept by the passing breeze. And he wears no exas perating fabric of wool or cotton, nor yet of insidious and sticky linen ; but with the smooth coat of green and black wherewith Nature clothed him, he can enjoj' the cooling shower, or sit in his bath by the hour, with no fear of ague and no sense of seething discomfort. ' Happy frog ! He has no hours of labour and he seemeth not to be oppressed with the necessity of sleeping at any set time. He can take his siesta at noonday and his dreamy doze at early dawn, and in the cool of the evening he can sit and sing in the fulness of his joy ! No mosquitoes annoy him. and lie has an easy escape from pestiferous flies. As a singer he has few equals, and as a ventriloquest he is absolutely unsurpassed. He can so modulate and entuuo his voice as to baffle the efforts of the most persevering boy to find his whereabouts, and without question he has rare sport in thus playing with the feelings of his chief enemy, the small boy. It is not alone in the refreshing and invigorating element, water, that the frog has advantages of locomotion, lie will leap you a hundred times his length at a single jump. If a man could do that, what fun it would be ! How exhilarating would be the daily journey to town, with the opportunity of a leap from the bridge on the way ! ' The frog has many other advantages that may well make one sigh for a lot like lils. Who ever saw a frog that was lean, or that was reduced either to heggary or (lie necessity of labour P His naiural food swarms in his favourite haunts, eager to be swallowed. Aud lie has no occasion to be over fastidious, for he has no sense of taste and very little of smell. It may not be generally known to the unlearned, that the frog, with all Ids fondness for .ater and dampness, never cirmks. To some this may seem like a disadvantage. There are degenerate men who, if they were forced to take all their liquid refreshment externally, would covet the rate of that . nglisu prince who was drowned in a butt of Malmsey wine ; or if they were to be frogs, they would wish for bowis of punch and lakes of liquor. ' The frog suffers occasionally from the ' cussedriess' of the small boy and the voracity of the Frenchman, but he has few enemies. For the most part he passes a life of serene joy, and never fails to keep cool in summer, while in winter he dreams the months away in a state of ecstatic torpidity. He has no occasion For overcoat or arctic shoes, and cares not for the range of the thermometer or the prognostications of 'Old Prob.' The rain never spoils his picnic, or postpones his evening's entertainment. He lias his place too in literature. Ev en old Homer sung of his conflict with rapacious rodents, and Aristophanes made him a medium for wit and music in his dramas. How many a lesson has he taught the world, with yEsop as his interpreter ! He is famous iii song and story, he is. happy and jovial in his life, and above all he is lor" ever cool, Happy frog!'

'You love me no longer,' said a bride of a few months to her better-half in his gown and slippers. « Why do you say that, Puss?' he asked, quietly, removing a cigar from his lips. ' You do not carress me nor call me pet names, you no longer seek so anxiously for my company,' was the tearful answer. 'My dear, continued the aggravating wretch, " did you ever notice a man running after a car? How does he run!—over stones, through mud, regardless of everything till he reaches the car and he seizes hold and swings on. Then he quietly seats himself and reads his paper.' 'And what does that mean ?' 'An illustration, my dear. The car is as important to the man after he gets in as when he is chasing it but the manifestation is no longer called for. II would have shot any one 'who put himself in my way when in pursuit of you, as I would now shoot ony ono who would come between us ; but as a proof of my love you insist on my. running after the car,' ***

"EVENING STAR" SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT OF ENTERTAINING READING.

No. 58 "•

AUCKLAND, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 0, 1876.

[Price: ONE PENNY,