ill the memory lie
Of the happy old days so dear,
And over our books we will wearily sigh,
"Oh, would our vacation were here!"

The bright days yet linger, the grass still is green,
Not yet have the mountains turned gray;
But what are the charms of sweet nature, alas!
Since vacation has vanished away?
But there is one comfort--the seasons roll round,
And all in good time we shall hear
Dame Nature's glad joy-bell ring gayly once more,
"School is out, and vacation is here."

THE 'LONGSHORE YACHT CLUB.

BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD.

"Yes, boys, de tide's a-comin' in now. Dat yot ob mine'll float afore
long."

"General," said Bob Fogg, "may we have your skiff for our yacht club a
little while to-day?"

"No, sah," replied George Washington, positively, with a wide grin on
his wrinkled, old, very black face. "De club can't hab no skiff ob mine.
Ef dey wants to borry my yot, dey can, dough."

"Bob," said Tommy Conners, "don't you know a sailin' vessel from a
skiff?"

"Look at the mast," said Gus Martin.

"And the sail," said Stuyvesant Rankin, with some dignity.

"Now, Sty," said General George Washington, as he limped a few feet
further from the spot where his rugged-looking old boat lay stuck in the
mud, "wot do you know 'bout sails? Youah mudder nebber went to sea.
She's a dressmaker."

"We can have the yacht, then, General, mast and sail and all?"

The little old black man evidently liked the members of that club, but
he shook his grizzled head doubtfully. "You mought tip ober, and git
yerselves drownded."

"No, we won't," exclaimed Put Varick; "every one of us can swim across
the Harlem and back again."

"'Cept wen de tide's runnin' too strong. Well, it's wuff w'ile dat you
kin swim. I 'mos' upsot her myself dis berry mornin' comin' home.
Wouldn't I lost a heap ob crabs! More'n a bushel. Real blue-leg channel
crabs, bestest kind."

There was more to be said, but the yacht club carried the day, and the
General limped off, turning now and then to chuckle, as he saw his young
friends crowding into the wonderful craft on the mud.

"Ef dey hasn't h'isted de sail! Yah! yah! Gwine to sail dat yot ob mine
right across de sand-bank!"

There was hardly wind enough for that; but it would be some time before
the tide would rise high enough to float the boat, and the club were not
in a state of mind to wait.

"Tell you what, boys, we'll have a cruise," said Bob Fogg. "Sh