And I'd saved him three elegant dances,
I wouldn't have acted so mean.
The way he went on with Nell Hadley;
Dear me! just as if I would care!
I'd like to see those two get married,
They'd make a congenial pair!
I'm getting disgusted with parties;
I think I shall stop going out;
What's the use of this fussing for people
I don't care the least bit about.

I did think that Joe had some sense once
But, my, he's just like all the men!

And the way that I've gone on about him,-
Just see if I do it again;

Only wait till the next time I see him,
I'll pay him back; won't I be cool!
I've a good mind to drop him completely-
I'll-yes I will-go back to school.
The bell! who can that be, I wonder!-
Let's see-I declare! why, it's Joe!
How long they are keeping him waiting!
Good gracious! why don't the girl go!
Yes-say I'll be down in a minute-

Quick, Marie, and do up my hair!-
Not that bow-the green one-Joe likes it-
How slow you are!—I'll pin it-there!

ZARA'S EAR-RINGS.

"My ear-rings! my ear-rings! they've dropped into the well, And what to say to Muça, I cannot, cannot tell."

'Twas thus, Granada's fountain by, spoke Albuharez' daughter. "The well is deep; far down they lie, beneath the cold blue

water.

To me did Muça give them, when he spake his sad farewell; And what to say when he comes back, alas! I cannot tell. "My ear-rings! my ear-rings! they were pearls in silver set, That when my Moor was far away, I ne'er should him forget; That I ne'er to other tongue should list, nor smile on other's tale,

But remember he my lips had kissed, pure as those ear-rings pale.

When he comes back, and hears that I have dropped them in the well,

Oh! what will Muça think of me, I cannot, cannot tell!

"My ear-rings! my ear-rings! he'll say they should have

been

Not of pearl and of silver, but of gold and glittering sheen,
Of jasper and of onyx, and of diamond shining clear,
Changing to the changing light, with radiance insincere;
That changeful mind unchanging gems are not befitting well:
Thus will he think :-and what to say, alas! I cannot tell!
"He'll think, when I to market went, I loitered by the way;
He'll think a willing ear I lent to all the lads might say;
He'll think some other lover's hand, among my tresses

noosed,

From the ears where he had placed them my rings of pearl unloosed.

He'll think, when I was sporting so beside this marble well,
My pearls fell in:-and what to say, alas! I cannot tell.

"He'll say
I am a woman, and we are all the same;
He'll say I loved when he was here to whisper of his flame;
But when he went to Tunis, my virgin troth had broken,
And thought no more of Muça, and cared not for his token.
My ear-rings! my ear-rings! Oh! luckless, luckless well!
For what to say to Muça, alas! I cannot tell!

"I'll tell the truth to Muça, and I hope he will believe
That I thought of him at morning, and thought of him at eve;
That musing on my lover, when down the sun was gone,
His ear-rings in my hand I held, by the fountain all alone;
And that my mind was o'er the sea, when from my hand
they fell,

And that deep his love lies in my heart, as they lie in the well!"

BABY SLEEPS.

Let every sound be dead

Baby sleeps;

The Emperor softly tread

Baby sleeps.

Let Mozart's music stop,
Let Phidias' chisel drop-

Baby sleeps;

Demosthenes be dumb,

Our tyrant's hour has come-.
Baby sleeps.

FETCHING WATER FROM THE WELL.

Early on a sunny morning, while the lark was singing sweet, Came, beyond the ancient farm-house, sounds of lightly tripping

feet.

'Twas a lowly cottage maiden going,--why, let young hearts tell,

With her homely pitcher laden, fetching water from the well.

Shadows lay athwart the pathway, all along the quiet lane, And the breezes of the morning moved them to and fro again.

O'er the sunshine, o'er the shadow, passed the maiden of the farm,

With a charméd heart within her, thinking of no ill nor harm.

Pleasant, surely, were her musings, for the nodding leaves in vain

Sought to press their bright'ning image on her ever-busy brain.

Leaves and joyous birds went by her, like a dim, half-waking dream;

And her soul was only conscious of life's gladdest summer gleam.

At the old lane's shady turning lay a well of water bright, Singing, soft, its hallelujah to the gracious morning light. Fern-leaves, broad and green, bent o'er it where its silvery droplets fell,

And the fairies dwelt beside it, in the spotted foxglove bell. Back she bent the shading fern-leaves, dipt the pitcher in the tide,

Drew it, with the dripping waters flowing o'er its glazed side. But before her arm could place it on her shiny, wavy hair, By her side a youth was standing!—Love rejoiced to see the pair!

Tones of tremulous emotion trailed upon the morning breeze, Gentle words of heart-devotion whispered 'neath the ancient trees.

But the holy, blessed secrets it becomes me not to tell: Life had met another meaning, fetching water from the well!

Down the rural lane they sauntered. He the burden-pitcher bore;

She, with dewy eyes downlooking, grew more beauteous than before!

When they neared the silent homestead, up he raised the pitcher light;

Like a fitting crown he placed it on her hair of wavelets

bright:

Emblems of the coming burdens that for love of him she'd bear,

Calling every burden blessed, if his love but lighted there. Then, still waving benedictions, further, further off he drew, While his shadow seemed a glory that across the pathway

grew.

Now about her household duties silently the maiden went,
And an ever-radiant halo o'er her daily life was blent.
Little knew the aged matron, as her feet like music fell,
What abundant treasure found she fetching water from the
well!

THE JINERS.

She was about forty-five years old, well dressed, had black hair, rather thin and tinged with gray, and eyes in which gleamed the fires of a determination not easily balked. She walked into the Mayor's office and requested a private interview, and having obtained it, and satisfied herself that the law students were not listening at the keyhole, said slowly, solemnly and impressively:

"I want a divorce."

“What for? I supposed you had one of the best of husbands," said the Mayor.

"I s'pose that's what everybody thinks; but if they knew what I've suffered in ten years, they'd wonder I hadn't scalded him long ago. I ought to, but for the sake of the young ones I've borne it and said nothing. I've told him, though, what he might depend on, and now the time's come; I won't stand it, young ones or no young ones. I'll have a divorce, and if the neighbors want to blab themselves hoarse about it, they can, for I won't stand it another day."

"But what's the matter? Don't your husband provide for you? Don't he treat you kindly?" pursued the Mayor.

“We get victuals enough, and I don't know but he's as true and kind as men in general, and he's never knocked any of us down. I wish he had; then I'd get him into jail

and know where he was of nights," retorted the woman. "Then what is your complaint against him?"

"Well, if you must know, he's one of them plaguey jiners." "A what?"

"A jiner-one of them pesky fools that's always jining something. There can't nothing come along that's dark and sly and hidden but he jines it. If anybody should get up a -society to burn his house down, he'd jine it just as soon as he could get in; and if he had to pay for it he'd go all the suddener. We hadn't been married more'n two months before he jined the Know Nothin's. We lived on a farm then, and every Saturday night he'd come tearing in before supper, grab a fistful of nut cakes, and go off gnawing them, and that's the last I'd see of him till morning. And every other night he'd roll and tumble in his bed, and holler in his sleep, 'Put none but Americans on guard-George Washington;' and rainy days he would go out in the corn-barn and jab at a picture of King George with an old bagnet that was there. I ought to put my foot down then, but he fooled me so with his lies that I let him go on and encouraged him in it.

"Then he jined the Masons. P'raps you know what them be, but I don't, 'cept they think they are the same kind of critters that built Solomon's temple; and of all the nonsense and gab about worshipful master and square and compasses and sich like that we had in the house for the next six months, you never see the beat. And he's never outgrowed it, nuther. What do you think of a man, squire, that'll dress himself in a white apron, 'bout big enough for a monkey's bib, and go marching up and down and making motions and talking foolish lingo at a picture of George Washington in a green jacket and an apron covered over with eyes and coluinns and other queer pictures! Ain't he a loonytick? Well, that's my Sam, and I've stood it as long as I'm goin' to.

"The next lunge the old fool made was into the Odd Fellows. I made it warm for him when he came home and told me he'd jined them, but he kinder pacified me by telling me they are a sort of branch show that took in women, and he'd get me in as soon as he found out how to do it. Well, one night he come home and said I'd been pro