All seemed delighted, though the e… Of course, than were the children.… Much interchange of mirthful compl… The story-teller said _his_ storie… (Like a bad candle) _best_ when th…

The Hoosier Folk-Child—all unsun… Unlettered all of mind and tongue; Unmastered, unmolested—made Most wholly frank and unafraid: Untaught of any school—unvexed

Scene.—_A kitchen.—Group of Chil… of the Seasons discovered in the s… wand, and, with eerie, sharp, impe… bespelled auditors, who neither se… presence._

This is 'The old Home by the Mil… Although the old mill, roof and si… The old home, though, and old folk… Old cat-tails, weeds and hartychok… Here, Marg’et, fetch the man a ti…

A dark, tempestuous night; the sta… With shrouds of fog; an inky, jet-… The firmament; and where the moon… An hour agone seems like the darke… The weird wind—furious at its demo…

‘Twas a Funny Little Fellow Of the very purest type, For he had a heart as mellow As an apple over ripe; And the brightest little twinkle

Uncle Sidney, when he wuz here, Maked me a squirtgun out o’ some Elder-bushes ‘at growed out near Where wuz the brickyard—’way out c… To where the toll-gate come!

Writ in between the lines of his l… We trace the sacred service of a h… Answering the Divine command, in… Bearing on human weal: His love d… The loveless; and his gentle hands…

Sing! gangling lad, along the brin… Of wild brook-ways of shoal and de… Where killdees dip, and cattle dri… And glinting little minnows leap! Sing! slimpsy lass who trips above

A king—estranged from his loving… By a foolish royal whim— Tired and sick of the dull routine Of matters surrounding him— Issued a mandate in this wise.—

You kin boast about yer cities, an… And brag about yer County-seats,… And railroads, and factories, and… But the little Town o’ Tailholt i… You kin harp about yer churches, w…

A languid atmosphere, a lazy breez… With labored respiration, moves th… From distant reaches, till the gol… Break in crisp whispers at my feet… My book, neglected of an idle mind…

The harp of the minstrel has never… As sad as the song in his bosom to… For the magical touch of his finge… Can not waken the echoes that brea… But oh! as the smile of the moon m…

Wasn’t it pleasant, O brother min… In those old days of the lost suns… Of youth—when the Saturday’s chor… And the 'Sunday’s wood’ in the ki… And we went visiting, ‘me and you,…

Ah, friend of mine, how goes it, Since you’ve taken you a mate?— Your smile, though, plainly shows… Is a very happy state! Dan Cupid’s necromancy!