"Young blood," laughed the elder; no doubt you are voicing the mode of To-day; But then we old fogies, at least, gave the lady some chance for delay. "There's my wife—(you must know,)—we first met on the journey from Florence to Rome; It took me three weeks to discover who was she and where was her home; "Three more to be duly presented; three more ere I saw her again; And a year ere my romance began where yours ended that day on the train." Oh, that was the style of the stage-coach; we travel to-day by express; Forty miles to the hour," he answered, " won't admit of a passion that's less." "But what if you make a mistake?" quoth the elder. The younger half sighed. "What happens when signals are wrong or switches misplaced?" he replied. "Very well, I must bow to your wisdom,” the elder returned, "but admit That your chances of winning this woman your boldness has bettered no whit. "Why, you do not, at best, know her name. And what if I try your ideal With something, if not quite so fair, at least more en regle and real! "Let me find you a partner. Nay, come, I insist-you shall follow-this way. My dear, will you not add your grace to entreat Mr. Rapid to stay? "My wife, Mr. Rapid-Eh, what! Why, he's gone,—yet he said he would come; How rude! I don't wonder, my dear, you are properly crim son and dumb!" -Atlantic Monthly. THERE COME THE BOYS. There come the boys! Oh, dear, the noise! Behold the knee of Harry's pants, NUMBER ELEVEN. But never mind, if eyes keep bright, Now hear the tops and marbles roll; For I know boys who ride them. Look well as you descend the stairs, The very chairs are tied in pairs, The dinner-bell peals loud and well, How oft I say, "What shall I do If I could find a good receipt, But what to do with these wild boys, Is really quite a grave affair- "Boys will be boys"-but not for long; This thought-how very soon our boys How soon but tall and deep-voiced men More gently we should chide the noise, Stitch in but loving thoughts and prayers TROUBLES OF A WIFE.-KITTY LINCOLN, 'Tis baking day, and I must makeLet's think it o'er and see Two kinds of bread and three of cake, And cookies, doughnuts, pumpkin-pies, I look around me in surprise, And here's the children, seven in all, And here's the brown loaf baked too hard (The very mischief's in it,) Come, Sammy, run and get some lard, Here, Watch, get out, you dirty dog, Now, I must roll the pie-crusts out, Can't seem to put him where he'll stay,— I hear my eldest daughter say, There's Sam, this minute, choking Watch, Mamma," cries Will, with eager eyes, "Make everything so gooder, And can't you make some apple-pies?" "Dear me," says Madge, "this lesson's hard, I'd like to know how I can go To the Good Templar's meeting, And yet their purpose seemeth good, How can I write, I'd like to know, ("Ma, Watch has eat the custard up!”— I cannot read what others write; Much less to scratch my head for brains, "Mamma," says Dick, "may I go out That plaguy Dick is out of sight,— The bread must soon be moulded ;— And there comes husband through the lane, CHARLIE MACHREE.-WILLIAM J. HOPPIN. Come over, come over the river to me, Who say ye're faint-hearted, and dare not plunge in. For stout is your back and strong is your arm, Come over, come over the river to me, I see him, I see him. He's plunged in the tide, Come over, come over the river to me, He's sinking, he's sinking-Oh, what shall I do! He's sinking, O Heaven! Ne'er fear, man, ne'er fear; He conquers the current, he gains on the sea,— Come over the river, but once come to me, He's sinking, he's gone,- O God, it is I, It is I, who have killed him-help, help!-he must die. Help, help!-ah, he rises,-strike out and ye're free. Ho, bravely done, Charlie, once more now, for me! |