tly back to heaven,
The night-fogs rolled away,
And rims of gold and crowns of crimson
Along the hill-tops lay.

That morn, the fields, they surely never
So fair an aspect wore;
And never from the purple clover
Such perfume rose before.

O'er hills and low romantic valleys
And flowery by-roads through,
I sang my simplest songs, familiar,
That he might sing them too.

Our souls lay open to all pleasure,--
No shadow came between;
Two children, busy with their leisure,--
He fifty, I fifteen.

* * * * *

As on my couch in languor, lonely,
I weave beguiling rhyme,
Comes back with strangely sweet remembrance
That far-removed time.

The slow-paced years have brought sad changes,
That morn and this between;
And now, on earth, my years are fifty,
And his, in heaven, fifteen.

ILLINOIS IN SPRING-TIME: WITH A LOOK AT CHICAGO.

I remember very well, that, when I studied the "Arabian Nights," with
a devotion which I have since found it difficult to bestow on the
perusal of better books, the thing that most excited my imagination
was the enchanted locomotive carpet, granted by one of the amiable
genii to his favorite, to whom it gave the power of being in a moment
where nobody expected him, paying visits at the most unfashionable
hours, and making himself generally ubiquitous when interest or
curiosity prompted. The other wonders were none of them inexhaustible.
Donkeys that talked after their heads were cut off, just as well as
some donkeys do with them on,--old cats turned into beautiful
damsels,--birds that obligingly carried rings between parted
lovers,--one soon had enough of. Caves full of gold and silver, and
lighted by gems resplendent as the stars, were all very well, but soon
tired. After your imagination had selected a few rings and bracelets,
necklaces and tiaras, and carried off one or two chests full of gold,
what could it do with the rest,--especially as they might vanish or
turn to pebbles or hazel-nuts in your caskets?

But flying carpets! They could never tire. You seated yourself just in
the middle, in the easiest possible attitude, and at a wish you were
off, (not off the carpet, but off this work-a-day world,) careering
through sunny fields of air with the splendid buoyancy of the eagle,
steering your intelligent vehicle by a mere thought, and descending,
gently as a snow-flake, to garden