onfident air,
And to hear the considerate manager say,
'There is nobody like young _Didier_;
So nice and exact, so quite _au fait_,
With a style so thoroughly _recherche_,
Some other concern may get him away,
So I think I shall have to double his pay!'

In clover the youth continues to graze,
And still in the orchestra he plays;
He's the man who never was known to make
The smallest shadow of a mistake,
And there's only one drawback on his praise,--
He is too modest by fifty per cent
For such a master of the art,
For the story went he would never consent
To play a _solo_ part.

There's a MORAL, my juvenile friend, in this,
And you need not stumble and grope;
Just look for it sharp, and you can't go amiss;
You will find, there is nothing like soap!
Don't suffer yourself to be cast down
If capricious luck should happen to frown,
Go through with the motions, and if you're acute
None will ever suspect that your fiddle is mute;
But be sure and do as the rest of us do,
And don't flourish your stick till you get your cue.
Thus, let prosperity ebb or flow,
Still bate no jot of hope,
You may draw the longest kind of a bow
If 'tis only rosined with soap!

THE GRAVEYARD AT PRINCETON.

Reader, have you ever visited the pleasant village of Princeton, New
Jersey, renowned alike in the annals of the country and of the church?
While traveling from New York to Philadelphia by the New Jersey
Railroad, you have doubtless obtained a glimpse of it, for it is 'a city
set on a hill, which can not be hid,' and from the 'station,' a mile or
two distant, its spires and belfries, gleaming from amid its thick
embowering trees, present an interesting and picturesque appearance.

Passing onward from the station, the first notable object that meets the
eye of the traveler is the Theological Seminary, a large, plain building
of stone, the head-quarters in America of that branch of the Christian
Church of whose stern, unflinching orthodoxy John Knox was at once the
type and exponent. Near it stands its Library, an elegant Gothic
structure erected through the munificence of James Lenox, of New York,
and containing many works of great value. The street on which these
buildings stand is appropriately named Mercer Street, for beyond them,
at a short distance, lies the battle-field of Princeton, and the spot
where the gallant Hugh Mercer fell. That spot was formerly