And followed me half way to it or more; And I was just a-turning round at this, And asking for my usual good-by kiss; But on her lip I saw a proudish curve, And in her eye a shadow of reserve; And she had shown--perhaps half unawares-- Some little independent breakfast airs; And so the usual parting didn't occur, Although her eyes invited me to her!

Or rather half invited me, for she Didn't advertise to furnish kisses free; You always had--that is, I had--to pay Full market price, and go more'n half the way.

So, with a short "Good-by," I shut the door, And left her as I never had before.

But when at noon my lunch I came to eat.

Put up by her so delicately neat-- Choicer, somewhat, than yesterday's had been, And some fresh, sweet-eyed pansies she'd put in-- "Tender and pleasant thoughts," I knew they meant-- It seemed as if her kiss with me she'd sent; Then I became once more her humble lover, And said, "To-night I'll ask forgiveness of her."

I went home over-early on that eve, Having contrived to make myself believe, By various signs I kind o' knew and guessed, A thunder-storm was coming from the west.

('Tis strange, when one sly reason fills the heart, How many honest ones will take its part: A dozen first-cla.s.s reasons said 'twas right That I should strike home early on that night.)

Half out of breath, the cabin door I swung, With tender heart-words trembling on my tongue; But all within looked desolate and bare: My house had lost its soul,--she was not there!

A penciled note was on the table spread, And these are something like the words it said: "The cows have strayed away again, I fear; I watched them pretty close; don't scold me, dear.

And where they are, I think I nearly know: I heard the bell not very long ago....

I've hunted for them all the afternoon; I'll try once more--I think I'll find them soon.

Dear, if a burden I have been to you, And haven't helped you as I ought to do.

Let old-time memories my forgiveness plead; I've tried to do my best--I have indeed.

Darling, piece out with love the strength I lack, And have kind words for me when I get back."

Scarce did I give this letter sight and tongue-- Some swift-blown rain-drops to the window clung, And from the clouds a rough, deep growl proceeded: My thunder-storm had come, now 'twasn't needed.

I rushed out-door. The air was stained with black: Night had come early, on the storm-cloud's back: And everything kept dimming to the sight, Save when the clouds threw their electric light; When for a flash, so clean-cut was the view, I'd think I saw her--knowing 'twas not true.

Through my small clearing dashed wide sheets of spray, As if the ocean waves had lost their way; Scarcely a pause the thunder-battle made, In the bold clamor of its cannonade.

And she, while I was sheltered, dry, and warm, Was somewhere in the clutches of this storm!

She who, when storm-frights found her at her best, Had always hid her white face on my breast!

My dog, who'd skirmished round me all the day, Now crouched and whimpering, in a corner lay; I dragged him by the collar to the wall, I pressed his quivering muzzle to a shawl-- "Track her, old boy!" I shouted; and he whined, Matched eyes with me, as if to read my mind, Then with a yell went tearing through the wood, I followed him, as faithful as I could.

No pleasure-trip was that, through flood and flame; We raced with death: we hunted n.o.ble game.

All night we dragged the woods without avail; The ground got drenched--we could not keep the trail, Three times again my cabin home I found, Half hoping she might be there, safe and sound; But each time 'twas an unavailing care: My house had lost its soul; she was not there!

When, climbing--the wet trees, next morning-sun.

Laughed at the ruin that the night had done, Bleeding and drenched, by toil and sorrow bent, Back to what used to be my home I went.

But as I neared our little clearing-ground-- Listen!--I heard the cow-bell's tinkling sound.

The cabin door was just a bit ajar; It gleamed upon my glad eyes like a star, "Brave heart," I said, "for such a fragile form!

She made them guide her homeward through the storm!"

Such pangs of joy I never felt before.

"You've come!" I shouted and rushed through the door.

Yes, she had come--and gone again. She lay With all her young life crushed and wrenched away-- Lay, the heart-ruins of oar home among, Not far from where I killed her with my tongue.

The rain-drops glittered 'mid her hair's long strands, The forest thorns had torn her feet and hands, And 'midst the tears--brave tears--that one could trace Upon the pale but sweetly resolute face, I once again the mournful words could read, "I have tried to do my best--I have, indeed."

And now I'm mostly done; my story's o'er; Part of it never breathed the air before.

'Tisn't over-usual, it must be allowed, To volunteer heart-history to a crowd, And scatter 'mongst them confidential tears, But you'll protect an old man with his years; And wheresoe'er this story's voice can reach, This is the sermon I would have it preach:

Boys flying kites haul in their white-winged birds: You can't do that way when you're flying words.

"Careful with fire," is good advice we know: "Careful with words," is ten times doubly so.

Thoughts unexpressed may sometimes fall back dead, But G.o.d himself can't kill them when they're said!

Yon have my life-grief: do not think a minute 'Twas told to take up time. There's business in it.

It sheds advice: whoe'er will take and live it, Is welcome to the pain it cost to give it.

_Will Carleton._

Seein' Things

I ain't afeard uv snakes, or toads, or bugs, or worms, or mice, An' things 'at girls are skeered uv I think are awful nice!

I'm pretty brave, I guess; an' yet I hate to go to bed, For, when I'm tucked up warm an' snug an' when my prayers are said, Mother tells me "Happy dreams!" and takes away the light, An' leaves me lying all alone an' seein' things at night!

Sometimes they're in the corner, sometimes they're by the door, Sometimes they're all a-standin' in the middle uv the floor; Sometimes they are a-sittin' down, sometimes they're walkin' round So softly an' so creepylike they never make a sound!

Sometimes they are as black as ink, an' other times they're white-- But the color ain't no difference when you see things at night!

Once, when I licked a feller 'at had just moved on our street, An' father sent me up to bed without a bite to eat, I woke up in the dark an' saw things standin' in a row, A-lookin' at me cross-eyed an' p'intin' at me--so!

Oh, my! I was so skeered that time I never slep' a mite-- It's almost alluz when I'm bad I see things at night!

Lucky thing I ain't a girl, or I'd be skeered to death!

Bein' I'm a boy, I duck my head an' hold my breath; An' I am, oh! so sorry I'm a naughty boy, an' then I promise to be better an' I say my prayers again!

Gran'ma tells me that's the only way to make it right When a feller has been wicked an' sees things at night!

An' so, when other naughty boys would coax me into sin, I try to skwush the Tempter's voice 'at urges me within; An' when they's pie for supper, or cakes 'at's big an' nice, I want to--but I do not pa.s.s my plate f'r them things twice!

No, ruther let Starvation wipe me slowly out o' sight Than I should keep a-livin' on an' seein' things at night!

_Eugene Field._

The Raggedy Man

Oh, The Raggedy Man! He works fer Pa; An' he's the goodest man ever you saw!

He comes to our house every day, An' waters the horses, an' feeds 'em hay; An' he opens the shed--an' we all ist laugh When he drives out our little old wobblely calf; An' nen--ef our hired girl says he can-- He milks the cows fer 'Lizabuth Ann.-- Ain't he a' awful good Raggedy Man?

Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

W'y, The Raggedy Man--he's ist so good, He splits the kindlin' an' chops the wood; An' nen he spades in our garden, too, An' does most things 'at _boys_ can't do.-- He clumbed clean up in our big tree An' shocked a' apple down fer me-- An' 'nother 'n', too, fer 'Lizabuth Ann-- An' 'nother 'n', too, fer The Raggedy Man.-- Ain't he a' awful kind Raggedy Man?

Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

An' The Raggedy Man one time say he Pick' roast' rambos from a' orchard-tree, An' et 'em--all ist roas' an' hot!

An' it's so, too!--'cause a corn-crib got Afire one time an' all burn' down On "The Smoot Farm," 'bout four mile from town-- On "The Smoot Farm"! Yes--an' the hired han'

'At worked there nen 'uz The Raggedy Man!

Ain't he the beanin'est Raggedy Man?

Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

The Raggedy Man's so good an' kind He'll be our "horsey," an' "Haw" an' mind Ever'thing 'at you make him do-- An' won't run off--'less you want him to!

I drived him wunst 'way down our lane An' he got skeered, when it 'menced to rain, An' ist rared up an' squealed and run Purt' nigh away!--An' it's all in fun!

Nen he skeered ag'in at a' old tin can.

Whoa! y' old runaway Raggedy Man!

Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!

An' The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes, An' tells 'em, ef I be good, sometimes: Knows 'bout Giants, an' Griffuns, an' Elves, An' the Squidgic.u.m-Squees 'at swallers the'rselves!

An', wite by the pump la our pasture-lot, He showed me the hole 'at the Wunks is got, 'At lives 'way deep in the ground, an' can Turn into me, er 'Lizabuth Ann!