For she felt sartin-sure he 'd come,
Down to her very shoe-sole.

She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu,
A-raspin' on the scraper,

All ways to once her feelins flew
Like sparks in burnt-up paper.

He kin' o' l'itered on the mat,
Some doubtfle o' the sekle,
His heart kep' goin' pity-pat,
But hern went pity Zekle.

An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk
Ez though she wished him furder,
An' on her apples kep' to work,
Parin' away like murder.

"You want to see my Pa, I s'pose?"

"Wal... no... I come dasignin'

"To see my Ma? She's sprinklin' clo'es Agin to-morrer's i’nin'.”

To say why gals acts so or so,

Or don't, 'ould be presumin';

Mebby to mean yes an' say no
Comes nateral to women.

He stood a spell on one foot fust,
Then stood a spell on t' other,
An' on which one he felt the wust
He could n't ha' told ye nuther.

Says he, "I'd better call agin";
Says she, "Think likely, Mister"
Thet last word pricked him like a pin,
An'... Wal, he up an' kist her.

When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips,
Huldy sot pale ez ashes,
All kin' o'smily roun' the lips
An' teary roun' the lashes.

For she was jes' the quiet kind
Whose naturs never vary,

Like streams that keep a summer mind

Snowhid in Jenooary.

The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued Too tight for all expressin',

"He stood a spell on one foot first, Then stood a spell on t' other."

B

Tell mother see how metters stood,
An' gin 'em both her blessin'.

Then her red come back like the tide
Down to the Bay o' Fundy,
An' all I know is they was cried
In meetin' come nex' Sunday.

WHAT MR. ROBINSON THINKS.

UVENER B. is a sensible man;

He stays to his home an' looks arter
his folks;

He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can,
An' into nobody's tater-patch pokes ;
But John P.

Robinson he

Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B.

My! aint it terrible? Wut shall we du? We can't never choose him o' course, thet's flat;

Guess we shall hev to come round, (don't you ?)

An' go in fer thunder an' guns, an' all that;