So lone I stood, the very trees s… In conference with themselves.—In… Seemed everything;—the summer sple… The sight,—magnificence! A babe’s life might not lighter fa…

Oh luxury! Beyond the heat And dust of town, with dangling fe… Astride the rock below the dam, In the cool shadows where the calm Rests on the stream again, and all

The Old Hay-mow’s the place to pl… Fer boys, when it’s a rainy day! I good-'eal ruther be up there Than down in town, er anywhere! When I play in our stable-loft,

AFTER LEE O. HARRIS The master-hand whose pencils trac… This wondrous landscape of the mor… Is but the sun, whose glowing face Reflects the rapture and the grace

'Mylo Jones’s wife’ was all I heerd, mighty near, last Fall— Visitun relations down T’other side of Morgantown! Mylo Jones’s wife she does

Wunst I looked our pepper-box lid An’ cut little pie-dough biscuits,… And cooked 'em on our stove one da… When our hired girl she said I ma… _Honey’s_ the goodest thing—Oo-_o…

The harp has fallen from the maste… Mute is the music, voiceless are t… Save such faint discord as the wil… In sad aeolian murmurs through the… The tide of melody, whose billows…

We got up a Christmas-doin’s Last Christmas Eve— Kindo’ dimonstration 'At I railly believe Give more satisfaction—

Ho! it’s come, kids, come! 'With a bim! bam! bum! Here’s little Billy bangin’ on hi… He’s a-marchin’ round the room, With his feather-duster plume

Las’ July—an’, I persume 'Bout as hot As the ole Gran’-Jury room Where they sot!— Fight 'twixt Mike an’ Dock McGri…

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,…

First she come to our house, Tommy run and hid; And Emily and Bob and me We cried jus’ like we did When Mother died,—and we all said

Knightly Rider of the Knee Of Proud-prancing Unclery! Gaily mount, and wave the sign Of that mastery of thine. Pat thy steed and turn him free,

_May 1, 1891_. Elizabeth! Elizabeth! The first May-morning whispereth Thy gentle name in every breeze That lispeth through the young-lea…

Young Philiper Flash was a promis… His intentions were good—but oh, h… For a person to think How the veriest pink And bloom of perfection may turn o…