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affinity is before you are married; married folks hain't no right to hunt it,” says I sternly.

“We kindred soles soah above such petty feelings, we soah far above them.”.

“I hain't much of a soarer,” says I, “and I don't pretend to be; and to tell you the truth,” says I, “I am glad I hain't.”

The Editah of the Augah,” says she, and she grasped the paper offen the stand, and folded it up, and presented it at me like a spear, " the Editah of this


is a kindred sole, he appreciates me, he undahstands me, and will not our names in the pages of this very papah go down to posterety togathah ?"

Then says I, drove out of all patience with her, “I wish you was there now, both of you. I wish,” says I, lookin' fixedly on her, “I wish you was both of you in posterity now."

Marietta Holley.


OD makes sech nights, all white an' still

Fur'z you can look or listen,
Moonshine an' snow on field an? hill,

All silence an' all glisten.

Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown

An' peeked in thru' the winder;
An' there sot Huldy all alone,

’Ith no one nigh to hender.

A fireplace filled the room's one side

With half a cord o'wood in-
There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died)

To bake ye to a puddin'.

The wa’nut logs shot sparkles out

Towards the pootiest, bless her, An' leetle flames danced all about

The chiny on the dresser.

Again the chimbley crook-necks hung,

An' in amongst 'em rusted The ole queen's-arm thet gran'ther Young

Fetched back from Concord busted.

The very room, coz she was in,

Seemed warm from floor to ceilin', An' she looked full ez rosy again

Ez the apples she was peelin'.

'Twas kin' o' kingdom come to look

On sech a blessed cretur ; A dogrose blushin' to a brook

Ain't modester nor sweeter.

He was six foot o' man, A1,

Clean grit an' human natur'; None couldn't quiker pitch a ton,

Nor dror a furrer straighter.

He'd sparked it with full twenty gals,

He'd squired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'em, Fust this one, an' then thet, by spells

All is, he couldn't love 'em.

But long o' her his veins 'ould run

All crinkly like curled maple ; The side she breshed felt full o'sun

Ez a south slope in Ap’il.

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She thought no vice hed sech a swing

Ez hisn in the choir : My! when he made Ole Hunderd ring

She knowed the Lord was nigher.

An' she'd blush scarlet, right in prayer,

When her new meetin'-bunnet Felt somehow thru' its crown a pair O'blue eyes sot upon


Thet night, I tell ye, she looked some !

She seemed to've gut a new soul, For she felt sartain-sure he'd come,

Down to her very shoe-sole.

She heered a foot, and knowed it tu,

A-rasping on the scraper,-
All ways to once her feelin's 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.

" Wall ...


“ You want to see my Pa, I s'pose ?"

I come dasignin' To see my Ma ? she is sprinklin' clo'es

Agin to-morrer's i'nin'."

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For she was jes' the quiet kind

Whose naturs never vary,
Like streams that keep a summer mind

Snow-hid in Jenooary.

The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued

Too tight for all expressin',
Tell mother see how metters stood,

And 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.

James Russell Lowell.

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