and brain?

Under the dusk of your villa trees,
Edging the drives where your blooded span
Paw the pebbles and wait your ease,--
Where are the children about your knees,
And the mirth, and the happy man?

The blinds of your mansion are battened to;
Your faded wife is a close recluse;
And your "finished" daughters will doubtless do
Dutifully all that is willed of you,
And marry as you shall choose!--

But O for the old-home voices, blent
With the watery jingle of pans and spoons,
And the motherly chirrup of glad content
And neighborly gossip and merriment,
And the old-time fiddle-tunes!

THEIR SWEET SORROW.

They meet to say farewell: Their way
Of saying this is hard to say.--
He holds her hand an instant, wholly
Distressed--and she unclasps it slowly.

He bends his gaze evasively
Over the printed page that she
Recurs to, with a new-moon shoulder
Glimpsed from the lace-mists that enfold her.

The clock, beneath its crystal cup,
Discreetly clicks--"Quick! Act! Speak up!"
A tension circles both her slender
Wrists--and her raised eyes flash in splendor,

Even as he feels his dazzled own.--
Then, blindingly, round either thrown,
They feel a stress of arms that ever
Strain tremblingly--and "Never! Never!"

Is whispered brokenly, with half
A sob, like a belated laugh,--
While cloyingly their blurred kiss closes,
Sweet as the dew's lip to the rose's.

SOME SCATTERING REMARKS OF BUB'S.

Wunst I looked our pepper-box lid
An' cut little pie-dough biscuits, I did,
And cooked 'em on our stove one day
When our hired girl she said I may.

_Honey's_ the goodest thing--Oo-_ooh_!
And blackberry-pies is goodest, too!
But wite hot biscuits, ist soakin'-wet
Wiv tree-mullasus, is goodest yet!

Miss Maimie she's my Ma's friend,--an'
She's purtiest girl in all the lan'!--
An' sweetest smile an' voice an' face--
An' eyes ist looks like p'serves tas'e'!

I _ruther_ go to the Circus-show;
But, 'cause my _parunts_ told me so,
I ruther go to the Sund'y School,
'Cause there I learn the goldun rule.

Say, Pa,--what _is_ the goldun rule
'At's allus at the Sund'y School?

MR. WHAT'S-HIS-NAME.

They called him Mr. What's-his-name:
From where he was, or why he came,
Or when, or what he found to do,
Nobody in the city knew.

He lived, it seemed, shut up alone
In a low hovel of his own;
There cooked his meals and made his bed,
Careless of all his neighbors sai