Recitations and dialogues . e, while I langli at tl;^isery I have wrought. Beginning with trifles and end-ing with importance I have hjarded illbegotten weahhsince time first began.—[Exit] Miss Ethers Reply. That dark eyed man to liis bethrothedUpheld the suitor of earthly gloried in the flusli that toldThe secret of a lovers soul. In reply the maiden image of true , though, she bade him hear,Tu language plain and accents clear. Trne, lie is a millionare,But do you think I stoop to care?I am not bartered by gold or fame,Were he Englands prince, twould be
Recitations and dialogues . e, while I langli at tl;^isery I have wrought. Beginning with trifles and end-ing with importance I have hjarded illbegotten weahhsince time first began.—[Exit] Miss Ethers Reply. That dark eyed man to liis bethrothedUpheld the suitor of earthly gloried in the flusli that toldThe secret of a lovers soul. In reply the maiden image of true , though, she bade him hear,Tu language plain and accents clear. Trne, lie is a millionare,But do you think I stoop to care?I am not bartered by gold or fame,Were he Englands prince, twould bethe same. Tis merit alone that does enhancs,With fame and fortune I take my chance,And center affection on true worth,Not hoarded wealth or royal fields of grain belong to liim,And tracts of land and castles dim;Equipage and servants at his commandBut they cannot buy Miss Ethels the repulsive thought I turn my heart it seems to strayTo the object of true worthThat gave my affections birth. 16. ETHEL M. JOHNSTONNegation This declaration made so strong,Repulsed each thouglit, though liar- Dored liappened then we all may guess,For words alone fail to express. The Woolen Mills, Remindful of the grim dark prison ofold, Of which ghostly visions are told, How martyrs suffered and patriots bled And the dungeons bespattered with blood are still red ;The woolen mill at the end of town,Like one of these hideous spectrals is and locked is the fettered doorWhere a chil] awaits to cover oerThe forms which enter tlie walls which glare,As if haunted by ghosts who wrere lurking on one side above the mill,Is a perpendicular, rocky, moss grown though nature scorned the laborers sought to bury them in a living tomb,From the western side, on a summer day,Where the waters with the sunshine Salem, Albany,Corvallis,EugenePassing through the locks these boats may be seen:The Lang, Ruth and Modoc, at will,
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