hin!

"Oh!" the rosy lips reply,
"I can't tell you if I try!
'Tis so long I can't remember:
Ask some younger Miss than I!"

Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face,
Do your heart and head keep pace?
When does hoary Love expire,
When do frosts put out the fire?
Can its embers burn below
All that chill December snow?
Care you still soft hands to press,
Bonny heads to smooth and bless?
When does Love give up the chase?
Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face!

"Ah!" the wise old lips reply,
"Youth may pass and strength may die;
But of Love I can't foretoken:
Ask some older Sage than I!"

AMONG THE WORKERS IN SILVER.

Excursionists to Lake Superior, when they get away up in the northern
part of Lake Huron, where are those "four thousand islands" lying flat
and green in the sun, without a tree or a hut upon them, see at length,
in the distance, a building like a large storehouse, evidently not made
by Indian hands. The thing is neither rich nor rare; the only wonder is,
how it got there. For many hours before coming in sight of this
building, no sign of human life is visible, unless, perchance, the
joyful passengers catch sight of a dug-out canoe, with a blanket for a
sail, in which an Indian fisherman sits solitary and motionless, as
though he too were one of the inanimate features of the scene. On
drawing near this most unexpected structure, the curiosity of the
travellers is changed into wild wonder. It is a storehouse with all the
modern improvements, and over the door is a well-painted sign, bearing
the words,

RASPBERRY JAM.

If the present writer, when he first beheld this sign, had read thereon,
"Opera-Glasses for hire," or "Kid Gloves cleaned by a new and improved
method," he could not have been more surprised or more puzzled. The
explanation, however, was very simple. Many years ago, it seems, a
Yankee visiting that region discovered thousands upon thousands of acres
of raspberry-bushes hanging full of fruit, and all going to waste. He
also observed that Indian girls and squaws in considerable numbers lived
near by. Putting this and that together, he conceived the idea of a
novel speculation. In the summer following he returned to the place,
with a copper kettle, many barrels of sugar, and plenty of large stone
jars. For one cent a pail he had as many raspberries picked as he could
use; and