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as no other people has ever been connected. We have opened our doors and invited emigration to our soil from all lands. Our invitation has been accepted. Thousands have come at our bidding. Thousands more are on the way. Other thousands still are standing a-tiptoe on the shores of the Old World, eager to find a passage to the land where bread may be had for labor, and where man is treated as man. In our political family almost all nations are represented. The several varieties of the race are here subjected to a social fusion, out of which Providence designs to form a new man.”
We are in this way teaching the world a great lesson -namely, that men of different languages, habits, manners and creeds can live together, and vote together, and, if not pray and worship together, yet in near vicinity, and do all in peace, and be, for certain purposes at least, one people. And is not this lesson of some value to the world, especially if we can teach it not by theory merely, but through a successful example? Has not this lesson, thus conveyed, some connection with the world's progress toward that far-off period to which the human mind looks for the fulfillment of its vision of a perfect social state? It may safely be asserted that this Union could not be dissolved without disarranging and convulsing every part of the globe. Not in the indulgence of a vain confidence did our fathers build the ship of State, and launch it upon the waters. We will exclaim, in the noble words of one of our poets :
“ Thou, too, sail on, O ship of State !
We know what master laid thy keel,
Rev. Wm. P. LUNT, 1867
THE DAY IS DONE.
THE day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of night, As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me That
soul cannot resist.
A feeling of sadness and longing
That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay, That shall soothe this restless feeling
And banish the thoughts of the day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime, Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer
Or tears from the eyelids start.
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
The beauty of thy voice;
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day
WHAT WE DID WITH THE COW.
Abridged from Youth's Companion.
ERUSALEM VALLEY, about twenty miles long
and five miles in width at its lower end, lies between two outlying spurs of the Sierra La Sal. Near the upper end of it, where the concave of lofty bluffs walls it round, our little party had made a permanent camp, intending to remain for several weeks, since the locality furnished in abundance those four requisites of a camping-out excursion—namely, grass for the horses, game, wood and good water.
Three miles below us a party of cow-boys were in quarters at a "dug-out," and with one of their party, a
, young man of the name of Little, I had made a very pleasant acquaintance.
One day as we two were riding together, I said, “I wonder that, with all the cows you fellows have, you don't corral them, and have fresh milk and cream for
“ Too much trouble. Coffee straight's good enough
fellows are welcome to it if you want it. Milk the hull vacada if you wanter. I don't keer.”
At camp that night I mentioned the matter to the boys, and it struck them favorably. Toe Judge's mouth had been watering for cream in his coffee ever since he joined us, and he hailed the proposition with delight. So the next morning we built a corral, or pen, of cottonwood logs, and in the afternoon started out to catch some calves; for we surmised that if we had the youngsters penned the mothers would be sure to stay around, and we could milk them at our leisure. We soon had half a dozen little fellows cut out from the drove and started to drive them up the valley; but I hope that I may be pardoned for the strength of my simile in saying that it was like trying to drive so many streaks of lightning! I never saw such active, mercurial, elusive little beggars as those calves—some of them not yet a month old ! They were as spry as squirrels, as light-legged as deer, and as slippery as eels.
At last, however, after infinite trouble, we succeeded in penning three of the calves, and left them to be hunted up by their mothers. These latter we found when we got up the next morning vainly trying to reach their imprisoned offspring through the corral fence. The next thing was to catch and milk the anxious
The trees in the locality were so close together that we could not use a lasso, and the cows, as if suspecting a trap, would not be driven into that part of the corral which we had left open for them. Finally, my brother John took a lariat, and, climbing a tree, lay out on a limb about twenty feet from the ground. The rest of us, on horseback, then tried to drive the cows under the limb. Two soon took fright and broke away through the woods, but a third,-a beautiful black heifer, -would 'not leave her calf.
She dodged us here and there like a will-o'-the-wisp, now and then making a quick dash at one of us, and ne