? o. Z TR 7

Its words I
Are lew, but deep and solemn, and they break
Fresh from the fount OF feeling - PeycipaI.

ORIGINAL CHARADE.
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My FIRST like the leaves of,he woodlands are
4 q falling,


10 strew the dull earth whence their pilgrim
age came,
Whose glance ever seems lost remnant re-


calling, u it.jlh3
The minstrels of peace. and the warriors of


fame.
Time whispers Of one whom eternity banished
10 hallow the seas as his shelterless bed,
And all save few have departed or vanished,
Wich tells us they're gone to the hills oflhe
,l dead. 4a
MY NEXT hath a name in The annals of story
Where peace given vallies in quietness lie,
Whose breath hath note full Of sweetness and


glory,


And minds US of homes in The halls of the
sky.
Euolean, Euolean, arise from thy slumbers,
The soldiers Of freedom are closely al hand,
Strike up thy death tune to their perishing


numbers, a





And echo their praise DER the face Of the


land.
MY WHOLE is jewel whose lively expression,
Affords but note which is artlessly sung,
Too lghtfor The burdensome weight of oppres-
sion,


ltmingles the breath with its musical tongue.
A tone which has minded the woe stricken


lover,


To scenes where his footsteps once joyous


did roam,
And It's sound TO the ear of the travel stained


rover,


Comes cool and refreshing, the breath O.
n sweet home.


W -e--~-~~-%~~-~-~-~~~7-~-~~
Answer to Original Charade Of yesterday
Hail Stone. AZ .