plied her mistress with cologne, I kept her attention
alive through the incipient circumstances. Symptoms were soon told. I
came to the avowal. Her hand lay reposing on the arm of the sofa, half
buried in a muslin _foulard_. I took it up and pressed the cool soft
fingers to my lips--unforbidden. I rose and looked into her eyes for
confirmation. Delicious creature! she was asleep!
I never have had courage to renew the subject. Miss McLush seems to have
forgotten it altogether. Upon reflection, too, I'm convinced she would
not survive the excitement of the ceremony--unless, indeed, she should
sleep between the responses and the prayer. I am still devoted, however,
and if there should come a war or an earthquake, or if the millennium
should commence, as is expected in 18----, or if anything happens that
can keep her waking so long, I shall deliver a declaration, abbreviated
for me by a scholar-friend of mine, which, he warrants, may be
articulated in fifteen minutes--without fatigue.
A SMACK IN SCHOOL
A district school, not far away,
'Mid Berkshire's hills, one winter's day,
Was humming with its wonted noise
Of threescore mingled girls and boys;
Some few upon their tasks intent,
But more on furtive mischief bent.
The while the master's downward look
Was fastened on a copy-book;
When suddenly, behind his back,
Rose sharp and clear a rousing smack!
As 'twere a battery of bliss
Let off in one tremendous kiss!
"What's that?" the startled master cries;
"That, thir," a little imp replies,
"Wath William Willith, if you pleathe----
I thaw him kith Thuthanna Peathe!"
With frown to make a statue thrill,
The master thundered, "Hither, Will!"
Like wretch o'ertaken in his track,
With stolen chattels on his back,
Will hung his head in fear and shame,
And to the awful presence came----
A great, green, bashful simpleton,
The butt of all good-natured fun.
With smile suppressed, and birch upraised,
The thunderer faltered--"I'm amazed
That you, my biggest pupil, should
Be guilty of an act so rude!
Before the whole set school to boot----
What evil genius put you to't?"
"'Twas she herself, sir," sobbed the lad;
"I did not mean to be so bad;
But when Susannah shook her curls,
And whispered, I was 'fraid of girls
And dursn't kiss a baby's doll,
I couldn't stand it, sir, at all,
But up and kissed her on the spot!
I know--boo--hoo--I ought to not,
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