"Little Dan."

the window , and if Dan was feeling bravehearted and getting along well , both would rejoice , while both would still be anxious if he complained and was discouraged . Almost every week for a year and a half the old lady- received a letter , and just as regularly she came to post an answer . She

wrote iu a quaint old hand , but the boy could make out every word , and once , when he wrote that her writing was improving , she felt all the pride which a school-girl could have shown . He improved as well . By-and-bye he wrote " Detroit" plain and

fair , aud he took extra pains to commence his " Dear Mother" with a grand flourish , and to add something extra after the words " Your Son Dan . "

Those letters were food and drink to the old lady , and she seemed to actually grow younger . Little Dan had many friends in the post-office , and had the mother been ill any carrier would have hunted till midnight to find her and hand her the lookecl-for letter . Three or four

weeks ago , when she opened her letter , she wept and smiled as over the first . Dan wrote that he was coming home for a week , and her heart was full . She said she'd have the cottage looking like new for himand she'd be at the depot to welcome

, him first of all . Everybody felt glad with her , and the lady clerk was to go up some evening and have tea with her , and see little Dan and praise and encourage him , for the more kind words a boy can have the better he will seek to do .

There was no letter the next Tuesday , but the two excused its absence by saying that Dan was getting ready to come home . That was early in February , and he was to come about the 1 st of March . The next Tuesday there ivas a letter , but the handwriting was not little Dan ' s . It

was a strange , business hand , and the clerk felt a chill go over her as she turned it over . It might be good news , but she feared not . " Mother" came in at the regular hour , and she turned pale as she took the envelope . Her fingers trembled

as she opened it , and she had to wipe the mist out of her eyes before she could decipher a word . She hadn't read over four or five lines when she uttered a moan aud sank right clown , like one crushed by some awful weight . They lifted her up and took her home , the letter clasped in her stiff fingers , and though she came out

"Little Dan."

of the faint after a while her heart was broken , and in a week she was in her grave . Dan was dead ! The letter said that he had been taken suddenly ill , and that nothing could save him . The blow was too heavy for one with her gray hair and

childish heart , and her little old cottage is without a tenant . No more letters commencing "Dear mother , " come from the dead , and the trembling hands which used to linger fondly over the words : " My dear boy Dan , " are folded over a lifeless bi-east , there to rest till the angels unclasp them .

Review.

Review .

The Death of JEgeus , and other Poems by W . H . A . Enira . London : Samuel Tinsley . Mr . Enira—who is a Norfolk rector , though not stated so on the title page , and cousin to our able brother Enira

Holmeshas here given us a volume of verse which has the true ring with it , and shows its author to be really a poet . Take for instance , the opening of his " Dedication to A . L . E . " : —

" AAHien summer ' s blaze pours fresh and fierce , Parching the thirsty plain , We see the morn with folds of mist The king-sun ' s orb detain ; Nor can the straining eye discern AVhat shapes the valley fill , Till noontide hastes , and sharp and clear Stands out each distant hill .

So clear and sharp the present hour , Its thoughts so well defined ; In such a misty cloud is wrapp'd The backward-gazing mind , It fronts the vagueness of the past , The true full present ' s light , And o ' er the stormy distance break Love's sunbeams rosy bright .

The past has charms , but it would bring The yearning and the strife ; They come not back unmix'd with pain , Those opening years of life ; And though the present knows its cares , The light clouds part , how soon ! And only love ' s pure sunshine lights Life ' s golden afternoon .