bodies of men,—but then there must be an occa[Pg 62]sional anomaly to break the monotony, if nothing more.

[Pg 62]

It is so unlike the ordinary world, this bit of Bohemia, that one feels a personal grievance when the marble entrance and great, green dome become positive, solid, architectural facts, standing in all the grim solemnity of the main entrance of the Hotel Royal on St. Louis Street, ending, with a sudden return to aristocracy, this stamping ground for anarchy.[Pg 63]

[Pg 63]

IMPRESSIONS.

 THOUGHT. A swift, successive chain of things, That flash, kaleidoscope-like, now in, now out, Now straight, now eddying in wild rings, No order, neither law, compels their moves, But endless, constant, always swiftly roves. HOPE. Wild seas of tossing, writhing waves, A wreck half-sinking in the tortuous gloom; One man clings desperately, while Boreas raves, And helps to blot the rays of moon and star, Then comes a sudden flash of light, which gleams on shores afar. LOVE.  [Pg 64]A bed of roses, pleasing to the eye, Flowers of heaven, passionate and pure, Upon this bed the youthful often lie, And pressing hard upon its sweet delight, The cruel thorns pierce soul and heart, and cause a woeful blight. DEATH. A traveller who has always heard That on this journey he some day must go, Yet shudders now, when at the fatal word He starts upon the lonesome, dreary way. The past, a page of joy and woe,—the future, none can say. FAITH. Blind clinging to a stern, stone cross, Or it may be of frailer make; Eyes shut, ears closed to earth's drear dross, Immovable, serene, the world away From thoughts—the mind uncaring for another day. [Pg 65]

THOUGHT.

A swift, successive chain of things,

That flash, kaleidoscope-like, now in, now out,

Now straight, now eddying in wild rings,

No order, neither law, compels their moves,

But endless, constant, always swiftly roves.

HOPE.

Wild seas of tossing, writhing waves,

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