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By the candle-light, in pumpkin bowls,
And the gleams that showed fantastic holes
In the quaint old lantern's tattooed tin,
From the hermit glim set up within;

By the rarer light in girlish eyes
As dark as wells, or as blue as skies.
I hear the laugh when the ear is red,
I see the blush with the forfeit paid,

The cedar cakes with the ancient twist,
The cider cup that the girls have kissed;
And I see the fiddler through the dusk
As he twangs the ghost of "Money Musk!"

The boys and girls in a double row
Wait face to face till the magic bow
Shall whip the tune from the violin,
And the merry pulse of the feet begin.


In shirt of check, and tallowed hair,
The fiddler sits in the bulrush chair
Like Moses' basket stranded there

On the brink of Father Nile.

He feels the fiddle's slender neck,

Picks out the note, with thrum and check;
And times the tune with nod and beck,
And thinks it a weary while.

All ready! Now he gives the call,—
Cries, "Honor to the ladies!" All

The jolly tides of laughter fall

And ebb in a happy smile.

Begin." D-o-w-n comes the bow on every string. "First couple join hands and swing!"

As light as any blue-bird's wing

"Swing once and a half times round”.

Whirls Mary Martin all in blue-
Calico gown and stockings new,
And tinted eyes that tell you true,

Dance all to the dancing sound.

She flits about big Moses Brown,
Who holds her hands to keep her down
And thinks her hair a golden crown,

And his heart turns over once
His cheek with Mary's breath is wet,—
It gives a second somerset !

He means to win the maiden yet,

Alas, for the awkward dance! "Your stoga boot has crushed my toe! I'd rather dance with one-legged Joe! You clumsy fellow!" Pass below!"

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And the first pair dance apart. Then "Forward six!" advance, retreat, Like midges gay in sunbeam street.

'Tis Money Musk by merry feet


And the Money Musk by heart!

"Three quarters round your partner swing!"
"Across the set!" The rafters ring,
The girls and boys have taken wing

And have brought their roses out!
"Tis "Forward six!" with rustic grace,
Ah, rarer far than-"Swing to place!"-
Than golden clouds of old point-lace

They bring the dance about.

Then clasping hands, all—" Right and left!"—
All swiftly weave the measure deft

Across the woof in loving weft,

And the Money Musk is done!

Oh, dancers of the rustling husk !

Good night, sweet hearts, 'tis growing dusk,-
Good night for aye to Money Musk,

For the heavy march begun!




SOMETIMES feel the thread of life is slender,

And soon with me the labor will be wrought; Then grows my heart to other hearts more tender.

The time,

The time is short.

A shepherd's tent of reeds and flowers decaying,
That night winds soon will crumble into naught;
So seems my life, for some rude blast delaying.
The time,

The time is short.

Up, up, my soul, the long-spent time redeeming ;
Sow thou the seeds of better deed and thought;
Light other lamps, while yet thy light is beaming.
The time,

The time is short.

Think of the good thou might'st have done, when


The suns to thee life's choicest seasons brought;

Hours lost to God in pleasures passing lightly.

The time,

The time is short.

Think of the drooping eyes that might have lifted
To see the good that Heaven to thee hath taught;
The unhelped wrecks that past life's bark have drifted.
The time,

The time is short.

Think of the feet that fall by misdirection;
Of noblest souls to loss and ruin brought,
Because their lives are barren of affection.

The time,

The time is short.

The time is short. Then be thy heart a brother's
To every heart that needs thy help in aught;
Soon thou may'st need the sympathy of others.
The time,

The time is short.

If thou hast friends, give them thy best endeavor,
Thy warmest impulse and thy purest thought,
Keeping in mind in word and action ever,
The time,

The time is short.

Each thought resentful from thy mind be driven,
And cherish love by sweet forgiveness bought;
Thou soon wilt need the pitying love of Heaven.
The time,

The time is short.

Up, up, my soul, the shade will soon be falling;
Some good return in later seasons wrought;
Forget thyself, at duty's angel's calling.
The time,

The time is short.

By all the lapses thou hast been forgiven,
By all the lessons prayer to thee hath taught,
To others teach the sympathies of Heaven.
The time,

The time is short.

To others teach the overcoming power,

That thee at last to God's sweet peace hath brought; Glad memories make to bless life's final hour.

The time,

The time is short.

From what thou art each day, whate'er thy station,
Are new creations good or evil wrought;
Seek thou thy joy in others' elevation.

The time,

The time is short.



T little profits that an idle king,


By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole

Unequal laws unto a savage race,

That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink

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