THE STUDENT'S HOMES.

Far above the city's rattle, and the lamp-lights ruddy glow,
Where the light and darkness battle, burns a taper faint and low.
Nightly burns that glimmering taper, till with dawn the East is red,
Over many a blotted paper, o'er a worn and aching head.

In that chamber high and lonely, sits a student weak and pale,
Resting from his labors only, when his jaded powers fail;
Even then in dreams fantastic, chasing still the long-sought prize,
Shaped by fancy's power plastic, flitting e'er before his eyes.

In a distant cottage lowly, by a candle's flickering flame,
Reverent o'er the volume holy, sits an old and feeble dame;
Midnight bells sound in the distance, yet her labor scarce is done,
Toiling for a scant subsistence, for her gifted, darling son.

Long and silent sits she musing, with her head upon her breast.
Recking not though she be losing precious hours of needed rest:
Even 'mid her thoughts of heaven, steal fond dreams of mother's love-
When she kneels to be forgiven, prayers for him ascend above.

Dancing o'er the distant marshes, flit the ghostly lights to die
By the chapel's moss-grown arches, where the buried corpses lie :
There, in yonder humble corner, lowly lies the sire's head.
Planted by that widowed mourner, flowers deck his narrow bed.

But the months away are streaming,-soon no more is seen the light
From the student's window beaming, through the long and weary night:
Never more for glory weeps he, resting in the burial ground,
With his mother peaceful sleeps he, close beside that narrow mound.

ALLEGORY.

THE TWO MONUMENTS.

ONE pleasant morning as I was strolling along the walks of a luxuriant garden attached to an Eastern palace, by chance I overheard two young princes engaged in earnest yet kind discussion. Drawing near, I learned from the conversation that their royal sire had granted each of them permission to rear for himself a monument which should be an index of his character to the present, and a remembrance of his fame to future generations.

"Thus will I build my monument," ardently cried the elder of the youthful princes. "I will seek the loftiest and most commanding hill in the neighborhood, where the morning sun-light earliest kisses the earth,and where the eye of admiration would earliest fix its gaze. On the summit of this hill, I will begin to build. My monument shall rise a smooth and polished shaft of equal dimensions even to the top. The graceful Palmyra tree is not loftier and more elegant in its proportions than shall that structure be which is to perpetuate my fame. When men look thereon, they shall say, "So was the young prince who reared it, beautiful and graceful as his monument, bathing earliest and latest in the sunshine of joy and gladness." Such shall be my monument."

The younger prince was silent for a moment, and then replied: "I will build my monument on the plain. I will dig a deep and broad pit in which to lay its foundation. On this solid base shall rise, clearly and steadily, a massive structure. It shall gradually become smaller and smaller as it ascends, till at the top it shall become a point, and my monument shall be a pyramid. Though the winds blow hard, they shall not overthrow it; though the earthquakes rock it, yet shall it stand. Trees will I plant around it, and though it be not so lofty, yet it shall be a pleasant and lasting monument of my name; and I could hope that when men look upon it, they might say: "So was the young prince who reared it, pleasant, steadfast, and complete. He grew up like the pyramid, around whose base flourishes perennial greenness, and about whose summit memory playeth forever." Such shall be my monument."

After a few days, I walked again; and lo, on the highest hill glitter

ed the proud, beautiful column which was to transmit the fame of the elder prince. He had reared it speedily, and it was a splendid thing, flashing back the sun-beam, bathing its glorious summit in a silvery cloud, sublime, magnificent, and majestic. At a little distance on the plain was the half completed pyramid of the other prince. The workmen were still at their labor, removing the rubbish which they had dug through to lay its deep foundations, and wearily building it up to its altitude and perfection. They had not begun to polish it, and it stood there, a dull, dark, mishapen mass, attracting the notice of but few-winning the admiration of none. The royal monarch with all the splendor of an eastern court, came out to view the monuments. All eyes were attracted to the magnificent shaft which stood so proudly on the hill. Few noticed the half-built pyramid, and they who did seemed conscious that it was a failure. I then observed the princes. The youngest was sad and thoughtful; the elder was proud and happy; and indeed, I could but bless him in my heart, and I almost praised his wisdom and envied him his fame.

In a few days, I walked again. The pyramid was complete. Its deep foundations were sunk low in the ground. Its painted apex pierced the sky like a wedge. Its sides were smoothed and polished. The rubbish was all removed, and green trees and fragrant gardens afforded pleasant shade and grateful odors round it. What a paragon of symmetry is that monument!" I involuntarily exclaimed; "how lovely is the scenery about it; truly, the elder has not much surpassed the younger prince." But there was less proud magnificence about it, than in the other, and I turned to draw the contrast. It was gone! The splendid and graceful column lay crushed and broken on the hill side! A strong wind had caused it to quiver on its slender base, and at last, it came plunging down from the clouds, with all its pride and glory, and was now a mass of shivered ruins.

I found the elder prince sitting on a broken fragment weeping. His brother knelt by his side and tried to soothe him, but he repulsed consolation. "I have played the fool," he cried, in bitterness; "I have lost my fame; this heap of ruins will be my monument of shame forever."

I turned away in sadness, for I remembered how many minds of promise, like this foolish prince, haste to rear for themselves monuments of splendor, but refuse to incur the delay and toil of laying a sure foundation for it to rest on.

Z. A. Z.

A THUNDER STORM IN THE CONNECTICUT VALLEY.

Speaking of Amherst Scenery-the Sunset, as Ralph has described it, is glorious. The "fleecy mist-wreath, the gorgeous bow, and dark cloud," must have formed a contrast like

"A dream of poetry that may not be

Written or told-exceeding beautiful.

But brought up from childhood within hearing of the Atlantic's roar, nothing so much delights me in these inland towns, as the dark stormcloud, and the wind which drives it swiftly.

First, a white

Zenith like a
Soon the con-

I have seen them gather slowly in the distant West. cloud rises up and sails across the sky. It mounts the solitary standard-bearer, sent out to call the forces in. tributions of the South, the North and the farther West come pouring in to the mustering place of the aerial forces: slowly they arrange themselves with rank and file, vanguard and rear, in deep and massive columns. For a moment the huge mass pauses before its awful charge. Swift couriers haste from post to post along the lines. Squadrons of lighter clouds break from the grand array, and dash across the sky like the light armed archery in England's border warfare. Now the mighty force begins its motion. Slow and stately it rises over the skyey arch. Its masses heave up one above another with a stern and solemn motion. Now its ridgy summits roll up like the smoke of a burning city,—and now they settle back again in a dark strong line— the edge of the advancing cloud-army. How still it is! Not a leaf is swinging on its little stem. Nature hushes her breath in awe as that silent cloud comes on. But lo, it deepens! The winds are begining to play in its dark bosom and drive it fiercely onward. Hitherto, few have noticed the coming tempest, but now it is

"Like the sudden flinging forth on high

Of a banner that starteth suddenly."

Men look up astonished, and then flee to their shelters. The rattling peal of the first bolt which bursts through that mass of struggling vapor, startles many a busy laborer from his field, and sends him hurrying homeward. Swifter now and grander does the storm-army

advance amid the explosions of all heaven's artillery and the fierce pas du charge of the echoing thunder.

It has veiled the Sun like a pall of Death. It rushes on, heaving, boiling,plunging like a vortex of fiercely troubled waters, till gashed and pierced, and torn asunder by the bursting bolts, it dashes to the thirsty carth torrents of rain,—then rolls majestically away like a bannered host from the field of victory.

Though the sun-set be pleasant and lovely to see,

Give the storm-cloud, the storm-wind, the storm-bolt to me!

"FORGET AND FORGIVE."

FORGET! I never can forget

The trusting love of by-gone years,
For early hopes will glimmer yet,

Like lovers' eyes, through lovers' tears:

And lovers' tears may soon be dried,

And lovers' eyes shine bright again,

And hearts by sorrow vivified,
As earth by summer's rain.

Forget! long years of doubt and grief
A single word will wipe away,
But hours of happy love,-though brief,
Will linger to life's latest day.

Forgive! e'en 'mid this world of pain

There is one moment likest heaven,
When hearts that once have loved, again
Forgive, and are forgiven.

HAL.

A.