No; our hearts shall still be strong,
For the journey is not long;
In a holy, deathless land
We shall meet our household band:
In the fairer bowers above,
They await the friends they love,
Oh, what joy with them to dwell,
_Never more to say farewell!_




THE OLD SUGAR CAMP.


[Whoever has attended a "sugaring off" in the woods will enjoy the
reading of this poem--the description is so life-like and
exhilarating. It is a home scene.]

Come let us away to the old Sugar Camp;
The sky is serene though the ground may be damp,--
And the little bright streams, as they frolic and run,
Turn a look full of thanks to the ice-melting sun;
While the warm southern winds, wherever they go,
Leave patches of brown 'mid the glittering snow.

The oxen are ready, and Carlo and Tray
Are watching us, ready to be on the way,
While a group of gay children, with platter and spoon,