en there was a row on the election ground; and as for
fishes, why, if I'd stopped any longer for them to come swimming up to
my mouth, all ready fried, with pepper on 'em, I wouldn't even have
been decent food for fishes myself. I never got a nibble, let alone a
bite; but somebody else always cotch'd the fish, and asked me to carry
'em home for them. Fact is, if people wont wote for me, I wont wote
for people. And as for the milentary line, I give up in a gineral way,
all idea of being a gineral ossifer. Bonyparte is dead, and if my
milentary genus was so great that I couldn't sleep for it, who'd hunt
me up and put me at the head of affairs? No, if I'm wanted for any
thing, they'll have to call me. I've dodged about winkin' and noddin'
as long as the country had any right to expect, and now--rat-tat-tat--I'm
going to work for myself."

It was a wise conclusion on the part of Moggs, who may, perchance, in
this way, be a "gineral" yet.

THE BRIDE'S CONFESSION.

BY ALICE G. LEE.

A sudden thrill passed through my heart,
Wild and intense--yet not of pain--
I strove to quell quick, bounding throbs,
And scanned the sentence o'er again.
It might have been full idly penned
By one whose thoughts from love were free,
And yet as if entranced I read
"Thou art most beautiful to me."

Thou didst not whisper I was loved--
There were no gleams of tenderness,
Save those my trembling heart _would_ hope
That careless sentence might express.
But while the blinding tears fell fast,
Until the words I scarce could see,
There shone, as through a wreathing mist,
"Thou art most beautiful to me."

To thee! I cared not for all eyes
So I was beautiful in thine!
A timid star, my faint, sad beams
Upon _thy_ path alone should shine.
Oh what was praise, save from thy lips--
And love should all unheeded be
So I could hear thy blessed voice
Say--"Thou art beautiful to me."

And I _have heard_ those very words--
Blushing beneath thine earnest gaze--
Though thou, perchance, hadst quite forgot
They had been said in by-gone days.
While clasped hand, and circling arm,
Drew me nearer still to thee--
Thy low voice breathed upon mine ear
"Thou, love, art beautiful to me."

And, dearest, though thine eyes alone
May see in me a single grace--
I care not so thou e'