CONCERNING KISSES. Next day they brought a letter to my bed. I scorched the dirty rag till it was black; That very night I cracked a tradesman's door, 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; child." I crept to court-a crushed, triumphant worm- My life closed, and began; and I am back I walk rough roads-but do not walk alone! 415 CONCERNING KISSES. There's a jolly Saxon proverb that is pretty much like this, Never let another fellow steal a march on you in this; 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, The children were merry, and so was I— "Oh, look!" cried Mab, as a sudden turn "Let's watch the coals as they slowly burn, We knelt on the rug before the blaze Of a maid who was courted by lovers twain. But his vows and pleadings were all in vain; "The other was noble, and brave, and young, 'You'll rue, if you heark to his flattering tongue!' "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, "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. 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. Here's two dollars-I've got feelings which are not entirely dead- 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. 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. THE LITTLE QUAKER SINNER. A little Quaker maiden, with dimpled cheek and chin, 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! |