That guides a master's hand.

THE NOSE.

The perfumed fields of blooming May,

The evening scent of new-mown hay

Touch nerve olfactory,

And carry to the thoughtful brain

Loved memories of a long-past train

That once was full of glee.

Though flowers to-day are choice and rare,

In colors they may well compare

With richest hues we meet;

They lack the charm that gave them power

Since past is youth's entrancing hour

Their fragrance seems less sweet.

COMBINED INFLUENCE.

Five roads lead to the human brain

And through these roads all must obtain

The commerce of all lore;

No thought can enter mental port

Of any kind or any sort,

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