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But I'm afraid you'll think me very bold."
"Dear me! I've pulled the button off, I vow;
If you'd a wife, she'd sew it for you now!"
"I wish that you would ".—" Eh ?"—" would sew it on—
And something else! "—His modest features shone.
But not a word his palsied tongue could frame.
"Well,' something else' has surely got a name?"
He covered up his face and whispered this,—
"1 wish you'd give me something!" "What?" "A kiss I *
"Why, Mr. Slow, you are a curious elf;
A man in such a case should help himself!
For if a lady gave one, that would be
Like sealing an engagement,—don't you see?"
"That's what I want!" "Now really! Is it so T
She laughed outright; though 'twas indeed no joke!
HOLD THE LIGHT.
Ho! thou traveler on life's highway,
Moving carelessly along,—
Towering o'er the mighty throng;—
Some are struggling in the fight,
Begging thee to hold the light I
Look! upon thy right a brother
Wanders blindly from the way;
Frail and erring, turns astray;
Guide their wayward steps aright;
No! but fly and hold the light.
Hark ! a feeble wail of sorrow
Bursts from the advancing throng; And a little child is groping
Through the darkness, deep and long; Tis a timid orphan, shivering
'Neath misfortune's withering blight; Friends, home, love, are all denied her;
Oh! in pity hold the light.
Not alone from heathen darkness,
Where the pagan bows the knee,
With a blind idolatry—
E'er illume the soul's dark night,
Wild and pleading, " Hold the light!"
Here, as well, in life's broad highway,
Are benighted wanderers found;
Lights would glimmer all around.
Then would make earth's pathway bright,
"Ho! thou traveler, hold the light!"
MEASURING THE BABY—Emma Alice B*owx.
We measured the riotous baby
Against the cottage-wall—
And the boy was just as tall;
With spots of purple and gold,
The fragrant dew to hold.
Without, the bluebirds whistled
High up in the old roof-trees,
The red rose rocked her bees;
Were never a moment still,
That danced on the lattice-sill.
Silent and awe-struck does he hear
The imprecations of the night.
The white spray beats against the panes
Like some wet "ghost that down the air
Is hunted by a troop of fiends
And seeks a shelter anywhere.
He prays aloud—the lonely man—
While thus with pious heart he prays,
On the drenched gallery he stands
Striving to pierce the solid night;
Across the sea the red-eye throws
A steady crimson wake of light,
And where it falls upon the waves
He sees a human head float by,
With long drenched curls of chestnut hair,
And wild but fearless hazel eye.
Out with the hooks! One mighty fling!
Still sweep the spectres through the sky,