That erst had spangled heaven
With glories from that mystic throne
Whose blendings none can rival,
But whose expiring tints, alone,
Admit of a revival.

The rain that drops has dropped before;
Our flowers were another's;
The songs we sing were sung of yore
By long departed brothers;
The sounds we hear are but the tones
Or echoes of the past;
We live among the mouldering bones
Of forms too frail to last.

Then ask me not for something new,
All things are second-handed,
The old may sometimes be more true
Than that more lately branded;
But taking things as best we can,
We know 'tis only human
To shun a second-handed man,
Or a second-handed woman.

But let us not be too severe
On second-handed matter,
For nothing seems to be more clear
Than that we should not flatter
Our souls into a fatal state,
Of scoffing at the common,
For who can tell what cruel fate
May make of man or woman?

FACES WE READ.

One may read from the face at leisure,
From the leaf that reflects the soul,
The thought, the desire, and the measure
That imprint on the facial scroll
The innermost mind and its actions,
The heart with its strongest desires,
The passions, impulses, and factions
Which animate clay oft inspires.

Ev'ry line of th' face has a father
Whose hand has engraven it there,
But shades of the spirit are rather
Betrayed in the hue of the hair;
The pencils of thought, true to nature,
Have written their records so plain,
That a skillful eye reads each feature
That dwells in the heart and the brain.

One may peep into occult recesses
Which only the face will reveal,
May read what the tongue quite represses
But the eye cannot fully conceal,
May fathom the deepest depressions
Where the soul has buried its woe,
Where the heart would hold secret sessions
With scenes and events long ago.

The writer applying for a room at Newpoint Inn,
Amityville, Long Island, was informed that the house
was full. Some friends, stopping near, kindly invited
him to go with them. He accepted. After his departure
he sent the following:

AMITYVILLE.

"I was a stranger and ye took me in,
Hungry and ye fed me,"
No place for m