ring her when I come back home again--
And ef she'd had an idy what the present was to be,
I think it's more'n likely she'd a-went along with me!

Cars is awful tejus ridin', fer all they go so fast!
But finally they called out my stoppin'-place at last;
And that night, at the tavern, I dreamp' _I_ was a train
O' cars, and _skeered_ at sompin', runnin' down a country lane!

Well, in the mornin' airly--after huntin' up the man--
The lawyer who was wantin' to swap the piece o' land--
We started fer the country; and I ast the history
Of the farm--its former owner--and so-forth, etcetery!

And--well--it was inte_rest_in'--I su'prised him, I suppose,
By the loud and frequent manner in which I blowed my nose!--
But his surprise was greater, and it made him wonder more,
When I kissed and hugged the widder when she met us at the door!--

_It was Mary:_ They's a feelin' a-hidin' down in here--
Of course I can't explain it, ner ever make it clear.--
It was with us in that meetin', I don't want you to fergit!
And it makes me kind o' nervous when I think about it yit!

I _bought_ that farm, and _deeded_ it, afore I left the town,
With "title clear to mansions in the skies," to Mary Brown!
And fu'thermore, I took her and _the childern_--fer, you see,
They'd never seed their Grandma--and I fetched 'em home with me.

So _now_ you've got an idy why a man o' fifty-four,
Who's lived a cross old bachelor fer thirty year' and more,
Is a-lookin' glad and smilin'!--And I've jest come into town
To git a pair o' license fer to _marry_ Mary Brown.

[Illustration]

THE ROSE

It tossed its head at the wooing breeze;
And the sun, like a bashful swain,
Beamed on it through the waving trees
With a passion all in vain,--
For my rose laughed in a crimson glee,
And hid in the leaves in wait for me.

The honey-bee came there to sing
His love through the languid hours,
And vaunt of his hives, as a proud old king
Might boast of his palace-towers:
But my rose bowed in a mockery,
And hid in the leaves in wait for me.

The humming-bird, like a courtier gay,
Dipped down with a dalliant song,
And twanged his wings through the roundelay
Of love the whole day long:
Yet my rose returned from his minstrelsy
And hid in the leaves in wait for me.