A NICE CORRESPONDENT. Many may praise thee — praise mine as thine, Mine! God, I thank thee that thou hast given Something as much myself to be Life of my life, whom thou dost make Two to the world for the world's work's sake But each unto each, as in thy sight, one. DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK. 37 A Nice Correspondent. 'HE glow and the glory are plighted THE To darkness, for evening is come; The lamp in Glebe Cottage is lighted; Is summoned to dinner at Kew: I'm alone, my dear Fred, but I'm happy, - I wish you were here. Were I duller -Than dull, you'd be dearer than dear; I am dressed in your favorite color, – Dear Fred, how I wish you were here! I am wearing my lazuli necklace, The necklace you fastened askew ! Was there ever so rude or so reckless A darling as you? I want you to come and pass sentence How thrilling, romantic, and true; To-day, in my ride, I've been crowning I heard how you shot at The Beeches, I have read the report of your speeches, There's a whisper of hearts you are breaking,— I envy their owners, I do! Small marvel that Fortune is making Her idol of you. Alas for the world, and its dearly Bought triumph, and fugitive bliss! But perhaps one is best with a measure Your whim is for frolic and fashion, Your taste is for letters and art; HER LETTER. This rhyme is the commonplace passion Love, some day they 'll print it, because it Was written to you. FREDERICK LOCKER. I Her Letter. 'M sitting alone by the fire, Dressed just as I came from the dance, In a robe even you would admire,— A dozen engagements I've broken; That waits on the stairs — for me yet. They say he'll be rich, when he grows up,- And you, sir, are turning your nose up, "And how do I like my position?" "And what do I think of New York?" "And now, in my higher ambition, With whom do I waltz, flirt, or talk?" "And is n't it nice to have riches, And diamonds and silks, and all that?" "And are n't it a change to the ditches And tunnels of Poverty Flat?" 39 Well yes, if you saw us out driving And yet, just this moment, when sitting In the mists of a gaze de chambéry - And the hum of the smallest of talk, Somehow, Joe, I thought of "The Ferry," And the dance that we had on "The Fork"; Of Harrison's barn, with its muster Of flags festooned over the wall; Of the candles that shed their soft lustre Of the moon that was quietly sleeping On the hill, when the time came to go; Of the few baby peaks that were peeping From under their bed-clothes of snow; Of that ride, that to me was the rarest; Of the something you said at the gate: Ah, Joe, then I was n't an heiress - To "the best-paying lead in the State." Well, well, it's all past; yet it's funny HIS ANSWER TO "HER LETTER." Of fashion and beauty and money, That I should be thinking, right there, But goodness! what nonsense I'm writing! I'm spooning on Joseph,-heigh-ho! Good-night, here's the end of my paper; Good-night, if the longitude please, For maybe, while wasting my taper, But know, if you have n't got riches, And are poor, dearest Joe, and all that, That my heart's somewhere there in the ditches, And you've struck it, — on Poverty Flat. 4I BRET HARTE. His Answer to "Her Letter." REPORTED BY TRUTHFUL JAMES. BEING asked by an intimate party, Which the same I would term as a friend, Which his health it were vain to call hearty, And has something gone wrong with his lung, – Which is why it is proper and decent I should write what he runs off his tongue : |