A HEATHEN MISSIONARY.

(Lines on a Japanese Doll.)

ie a vase on my mantel he stands, looking down ;
. Stands, said 1? He hangs securely
By a hairpin, hooked in the belt of his gown,
To hold him firmly, surely,
To the vase’s rim; “neath his dangling feet
A porcelain abyss yawns steepy,
Yet he looks on the world with a gaze most sweet,
Calm, bland, but never sleepy.

I first beheld him chez Vantine,
*Mid divers dolls Oriental ;
The wisest face among ninety and nine,
All placid, wise and gentle.
By a beggarly bit of modern pelf —
A sordid silver quarter —
I won a sage to my mantel-shelf,
And daily I bless the barter.

I keep him there enpulpited,
(“ Enthroned” has too worldly a seeming)
With his wide-sleeved, open arms outspread,
In mild benevolence beaming.
To the sky-blue top of his black-fringed pate,
He bears the subtle aroma
Of an antique race and an ancient date;
Oh! “toy” were a sad misnomer.

Not his a simpering, soulless face,
Like doll from frivolous Paris,
Nor like the round-eyed ruddy grace
The German girl-child carries.
Toc humble he the babe to calm,
Who cries for glare and glitter ;
His sapient smile has mystic balm
For grown-up folk that’s fitter.