“Please tell him, good Archie,” said Dorothy fair,
“That I love nothing better than silvery hair
    When it crowns one so noble and true;
His heart all men say is exalted and grand,
He is known for his good deeds all over the land,
    Loved by every one, equalled by few.”

“That heart, my good Archie, I lay at her feet
To spurn or to thrill with an ecstasy sweet;”
    (And he reverently took her white hand,)
“That hand is his, Archie, and so is my heart
To have and to keep until death do us part
    To meet in the Heavenly land.”

Good friends new and old, should you journey that way
And should anything happen, to cause a delay,
    And you call upon Valentine Brown: 
In the coziest nook, you’ll see Archibald Gray,
Awaiting with patience the dallying day,
    Till the sickle of Time mows him down.

And Fortune still favors her Valentine dear,
She winters and summers there year after year;
    To thank her he never forgets;
With his rosy-cheeked children and beautiful wife
The heart of his heart, and the life of his life,
    The sun of his peace never sets.

HOMEWARD BOUND.

We grow in grace if day by day
We keep in mind to watch and pray,
Thus walking in the Heavenward way.

But, drifting from the guiding hand
Of Him who rules the sea and land,
We wreck ourselves on barren strand,

In name of Him who for us died,
We cry for help, when deeply tried,
Receive it, whatso’er betide.

Of good we sow some scattered seed,
We help to shield the bruised reed,
Supply to want, the urgent need.

Then once more hope to reach the goal,
For faith with works will save a soul,
Though hostile billows round it roll.

Thus tempest-tost, we struggle on;
Now sad, now cheered, till life is gone,
And trust to hear the bless’d, well done!

GEORGE JOHNSTON.

[The editor is indebted to his friend, George A. Blake, Esq., of the Elkton Bar, for the following sketch of his life.]

George Johnston, the editor and compiler of this book, was born in Philadelphia, May 15, 1829, the place of his birth being on Penn street, one door south of the southeast corner of Penn and Lombard streets.  He is the oldest son of Isaac Johnston, and was named for his grandfather, George Johnston, the youngest son of Isaac Johnson, who lived on his farm, one mile west of the east end of Mason and Dixon’s line, as early as 1755.  There is reason to believe that the earliest member of the family who lived in that neighborhood was Samuel Johnston, who resided there as early as 1708.

Mr. Johnston’s mother, Susan Curry, was a cousin of his father, she being the daughter of Ann Spear, the grandmother of Emma Alice Browne, a sketch of whose life appears in this Volume.