Whose wandering children come

To light with happy faces

The dear old mother-home,

Be tender with our darlings,

Each merry maiden bears

Such love and longing with her—

Men's lives are wrapped in theirs.

THE "STAY-AT-HOME'S" PÆAN.

The evenings are damper and colder;

The maples and sumacs are red,

The wild Equinoctial is coming,

The flowers in the garden are dead.

The steamers are all overflowing,

The railroads are all loaded down,

And the beauties we've sighed for all Summer

Are hurrying back into town.

They come from the banks of the Hudson,

From the sands of the Branch, and Cape May,

From the parlors of bright Saratoga,

From the dash of Niagara's spray.

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