Reader, I am sorry to hoax you, but there was no catastrophe. An antipathy looked dead in the face is always pointless. I was not challenged by Corporal F——; and as corporal, I never saw him after that night. I never knew his name; and it is quite probable that five years afterward I passed my wine to him in that same old antiquated town. There was a face at our hotel that reminded me very much of Corporal F——; but with five years, my antipathy had gone, and my tom-cat was a very clever companion.
[EPIGRAM OF PLATO TO A DECEASED FRIEND.]
As once thou shon'st, a morning star,
With life's young glory round thy head,
So now thou deck'st the western sky,
Soft gleaming from among the dead.
W. H. H.
[AUTUMN.]
On woodland and on mountain side
Rich, varied tints appear;
By mossy stone and wandering wave
Pale leaves are falling sere;
The garden flowers all scattered lie,
In sorrowful decay,
And the greenness of the valley slope
Is fading fast away!
And are the verdure and the bloom
In their fresh prime so dear,
That thus the spirit mourneth o'er
The ruin of the year?
No! 'tis because true types are they
Of lovelier, dearer things;
Hopes, joys, and transports, unto which
The soul so fondly clings.