CONCERNING KISSES.

Next day they brought a letter to my bed.
I opened it with tingling nerves and read :
"You have upon my kindness certain claims
For rescuing my young child from the flames;
Such deeds deserve a hand unstained by crime;
I trust you will reform while yet there's time.
The blackest sinner may find mercy still.
(Inclosed please find a thousand dollar bill.)
Our paths of course on different roads must lie;
Don't follow me for any more. Good-bye."

I scorched the dirty rag till it was black;
Inclosed it in a rag and sent it back.

That very night I cracked a tradesman's door,
Stole with my blistered hands ten thousand more,
Which next day I took special pains to send
To my good, distant, wealthy, high-toned friend,
And wrote upon it in a steady hand,

In words I hoped he wouldn't misunderstand: "Money is cheap, as I have shown you here, But gratitude and sympathy are dear.

These rags are stolen-have been-may often be;
I trust the one wasn't that you sent to me.
Hoping your pride and you are reconciled-
From the black, sinful rescuer of your

child."

I crept to court-a crushed, triumphant worm-
Confessed the theft, and took another term.

My life closed, and began; and I am back
Among the rogues that walk the broad-gauged track.
I toil 'mid every sort of sin that's known;

I walk rough roads-but do not walk alone!

415

CONCERNING KISSES.

There's a jolly Saxon proverb that is pretty much like this,
That a man is half in heaven if he has a woman's kiss.
There is danger in delaying, for the sweetness may forsake it;
So I tell you, bashful lover, if you want a kiss, why, take it.

Never let another fellow steal a march on you in this;
Never let a laughing maiden see you spoiling for a kiss.
There's a royal way to kissing, and the jolly ones who make it
Have a motto that is winning—if you want a kiss, why, take it.
Any fool may face a cannon, anybody wear a crown,

But a man must win a woman if he'd have her for his own; Would you have the golden apple, you must find the tree and shake it;

If the thing is worth the having, and you want a kiss, why, take it. Who would burn upon the desert with the forest smiling by? Who would change his sunny summer for a bleak and wintry sky?

Oh, I tell you there is magic, and you cannot, cannot break it; For the sweetest part of loving is to want a kiss and take it!

A TRUE STORY.

The moments were stealing and slipping by,
With laughter, and fun, and glee;

The children were merry, and so was I—
A happy circle of three.

"Oh, look!" cried Mab, as a sudden turn
Brought the fading fire to view,

"Let's watch the coals as they slowly burn,
And tell us a story true!"

We knelt on the rug before the blaze
That flickered, and rose, and fell.
"Long years ago, in the old, old days,"
I answer, "I've heard them tell

Of a maid who was courted by lovers twain.
The first he was rich and old;

But his vows and pleadings were all in vain;
She hated his yellow gold.

"The other was noble, and brave, and young,
And loved her with passion true.

'You'll rue, if you heark to his flattering tongue!'
Cried friends, when the truth they knew.

"INASMUCH."

But she loved him well, though his purse was light,

And married him firm and fast!"

I pause a moment, for out in the night,
A step that I knew came past.

"And oh, did she ever repent or rue

Her choice till the day she died?"

In the open door stood a form we knew.

"Ask papa!" I gayly cried.

They shouted and laughed and guessed the truth,

And learned a lesson as well,

That love is the holiest crown of youth

A blessing no tongue can tell!

417

"INASMUCH."

You say that you want a meetin'-house for the boys in the gulch up there,

And a Sunday-school with pictur'-books? Well, put me down for

a share.

I believe in little children; it's as nice to hear 'em read

As to wander round the ranch at noon and see the cattle feed.
And I believe in preachin', too-by men for preachin' born,
Who let alone the husks of creed, and measure out the corn.
The pulpit's but a manger where the pews are gospel-fed;
And they say 'twas to a manger the star of glory led.
So I'll subscribe a dollar toward the manger and the stalls:
I always give the best I've got whenever my partner calls.
And, stranger, let me tell you: I'm beginning to suspect
That all the world are partners, whatever their creed or sect;
That life is a sort of pilgrimage, a sort of Jericho road,
And kindness to one's fellows the sweetest law in the code.
No matter about the 'nitials; from a farmer, you understand,
Who's generally had to play it alone from rather an or'nary
hand.

I've never struck it rich; for farming, you see, is slow,

And whenever the crops are fairly good, the prices are always low. A dollar isn't much, but it helps to count the same:

The lowest trump supports the ace, and sometimes wins the game.

It assists a fellow's praying when he's down upon his knees―

Inasmuch as you have done it to one of the least of these.” I know the verses, stranger, so you needn't stop to quote: It's a different thing to know them or to say them off by rote. I'll tell you where I learned them, if you'll step in from the rain. 'Twas down in 'Frisco, years ago; had been there hauling grain. It was near the city limits, on the Sacramento pike,

Where stores and sheds are rather mixed, and shanties scatterin' like.

Not the likeliest place to be in, I remember, the saloon,

With grocery, market, baker-shop, and bar-room all in one.
And this made up the pictur'-my hair was not then gray,
But everything seems still as real as if 'twere yesterday.
A little girl with haggard face stood at the counter there,
Not more than ten or twelve at most, but worn with grief and care;
And her voice was kind of raspy, like a sort of chronic cold,—
Just the tone you find in children who are prematurely old.
She said: "Two bits for bread and tea, ma has n't much to eat;
She hopes next week to work again, and buy us all some meat.
We've been half starved all winter, but spring will soon be here,
And she tells us, 'Keep up courage, for God is always near.""
Just then a dozen men came in-the boy was called away
To shake the spotted cubes for drinks, as Forty-niners say.
I never heard from human lips such oaths and curses loud
As rose above the glasses of that crazed and reckless crowd.
But the poor tired girl sat waiting, lost at last to revels deep,
On a keg beside a barrel in the corner, fast asleep.
Well, I stood there, sort of waiting, until some one at the bar
Said, "Hullo! I say, stranger, what have you over thar?"
The boy then told her story, and that crew, so fierce and wild,
Grew intent, and seemed to listen to the breathing of the child.
The glasses were all lowered; said the leader: "Boys, see here;
All day we've been pouring whiskey, drinking deep our Christmas
cheer.

Here's two dollars-I've got feelings which are not entirely dead-
For this little girl and mother suffering for the want of bread."
"Here's a dollar," "Here's another," and they all chipped in their
share,

And they planked the ringing metal down upon the counter there.

THE LITTLE QUAKER SINNER.

419

Then the spokesman took a golden double-eagle from his belt, Softly stepped from bar to counter, and beside the sleeper knelt; Took the two bits from her fingers; changed her silver piece for gold.

"See there, boys; the girl is dreaming." Down her cheeks the tear-drops rolled.

On by one the swarthy miners passed in silence to the street.
Gently he awoke the sleeper, but she started to her feet

With a dazed and strange expression, saying: "Oh, I thought 'twas true!

Ma was well, and we were happy; round our door-stone roses

grew.

We had everything we wanted, food enough and clothes to wear; And my hand burns where an angel touched it soft with fingers

fair."

As she looked, and saw the money in her fingers glistening bright, "Well, now, ma has long been praying, but she won't believe me quite,

How you've sent 'way up to heaven, where the golden treasures

are,

And have also got an angel clerking at your grocery bar."

That's a Christmas story, stranger, which I thought you'd like to

hear;

True to fact and human nature, pointing out one's duty clear.
Hence to matters of subscription, you will see that I'm alive;
Just mark off that dollar, stranger; I think I'll make it five.

THE LITTLE QUAKER SINNER.

A little Quaker maiden, with dimpled cheek and chin,
Before an ancient mirror stood, and viewed her form within.
She wore a gown of sober gray, a cape demure and prim,
With only simple fold and hem, yet dainty, neat, and trim.
Her bonnet, too, was gray and stiff; its only line of grace
Was in the lace, so soft and white, shirred round her rosy face.

Quoth she: "Oh, how I hate this hat! I hate this gown and cape!

I do wish all my clothes were not of such outlandish shape!