ontact; the sudden cessation of
the song; the benediction of peace over the domestic foyer
temporarily resting.

I sing the soothing influences of home.
You, young man, thoughtlessly wandering, with courier, with guide-book
wandering,
You hearken to the melody of my steam-calliope
Yawp!

_H. C. Bunner._

AN OLD SONG BY NEW SINGERS

IN THE ORIGINAL

Mary had a little lamb,
Its fleece was white as snow,--
And everywhere that Mary went
The lamb was sure to go.

(_As Austin Dobson writes it._)

TRIOLET

A little lamb had Mary, sweet,
With a fleece that shamed the driven snow.
Not alone Mary went when she moved her feet
(For a little lamb had Mary, sweet),
And it tagged her 'round with a pensive bleat,
And wherever she went it wanted to go;
A little lamb had Mary, sweet,
With a fleece that shamed the driven snow.

(_As Mr. Browning has it._)

You knew her?--Mary the small,
How of a summer,--or, no, was it fall?
You'd never have thought it, never believed,
But the girl owned a lamb last fall.

Its wool was subtly, silky white,
Color of lucent obliteration of night,
Like the shimmering snow or--our Clothild's arm!
You've seen her arm--her right, I mean--
The other she scalded a-washing, I ween--
How white it is and soft and warm?

Ah, there was soul's heart-love, deep, true, and tender,
Wherever went Mary, the maiden so slender,
There followed, his all-absorbed passion, inciting,
That passionate lambkin--her soul's heart delighting--
Ay, every place that Mary sought in,
That lamb was sure to soon be caught in.

(_As Longfellow might have done it._)

Fair the daughter known as Mary,
Fair and full of fun and laughter,
Owned a lamb, a little he-goat,
Owned him all herself and solely.
White the lamb's wool as the Gotchi--
The great Gotchi, driving snowstorm.
Hither Mary went and thither,
But went with her to all places,
Sure as brook to run to river,
Her pet lambkin following with her.

(_How Andrew Lang sings it._)

RONDEAU

A wonderful lass was Marie, petite,
And she looked full fair and passing sweet--
And, oh! she owned--but cannot you guess
What pet can a maiden so love and caress
As a tiny lamb with a plaintive bleat

And mud upon his dainty feet
And a gentle veally odour of meat,
And a fleece to finger and kiss and press--
White as snow?

Wherever she wandered,