THE WINDOWS OF A GREAT LIBRARY.

"The dead alive and busy."--Henry Vaughan.

Without, wind-lifted, lo! a little rose
(From the great Summer's heart its life-blood flows),
For some fond spirit to reach and kiss and bless,
Climbs to the casement, brings the joyous wraith
Of the sun's quick world, without, of joyousness
Into this still world of enchanted breath.
And, far away, behold the dust arise,
From streets white-hot, into the sunny skies!
The city murmurs: in the sunshine beats,
Through all its giant veins of throbbing streets,
The heart of Business, on whose sweltering brow
The dew shall sleep to-night (forgotten now).
There rush the many, toiling as but one;
There swarm the living myriads in the sun;
There all the mighty troubled day is loud
(Business, the god whose voice is of the crowd).
And, far above the sea-horizon blue,
Like sea-birds, sails are hovering into view.
There move the living; here the dead that move:
Within the book-world rests the noiseless lever
That moves the noisy, thronged world forever.
Below the living move, the dead above.

John James Piatt.

"GOING, GOING, GONE."

I.

"Take it to Rumble. He will give you twice as much on it as any other
pawnbroker."

The speaker was a seedy actor, and the person he addressed was also a
follower of the histrionic muses. The latter held before him an ulster
which he surveyed with a rueful countenance.

It was not the thought of having to go to the pawnbroker's that made
him rueful, for he would have parted with a watch, if he had possessed
one, with indifference; but the wind that whistled without and the
snow that beat against the window-pane made him shiver at the thought
of surrendering his ulster. However, he had to do it. Both he and his
friend were without money, and it was New Year's eve, which they did
not mean to let pass without a little jollification. Therefore they
had drawn lots to determine which should hypothecate his overcoat in
order to raise funds. The victim was preparing to go to the
sacrifice.

"Yes," continued his friend, "take it to Rumble. He is the Prince of
Pawnbrokers. Last week I took a set of gold shirt studs to him. He
asked me at what I valued them. I named a slightly larger sum than I
paid for them, and the