Thought at first she'd try to fly.

But she blushed an' stood her ground.
Then, a-slyly lookin' round,

She says: "Did you hear me, Ben?"
"Whistlin' woman, crowin' hen,"
Says I, lookin' awful stern.

Then the red commenced to burn
In them cheeks o' hern. Why, la!
Reddest red you ever saw
Pineys wa'n't a circumstance.
You'd 'a' noticed in a glance

She was pow'rful shamed an' skeart;
But she looked so sweet an' peart,
That a idee struck my head;

So I up an' slowly said:

"Woman whistlin' brings shore harm,

Jest one thing'll break the charm."

"And what's that?" "Oh, my!" says I,

"I don't like to tell you."

"Why?"
Says Susanner. "Well, you see
It would kinder fall on me."
Course I knowed that she'd insist,
So I says: "You must be kissed
By the man that heard you whistle;
Everybody says that this'll

Break the charm and set you free
From the threat'nin' penalty."
She was blushin' fit to kill,
But she answered, kinder still:

"I don't want to have no harm,

Please come, Ben, an' break the charm."
Did I break that charm?- oh, well,
There's some things I mustn't tell.
I remember, afterwhile,

Her a-sayin' with a smile:

When I come in f'om de co'n-fiel' aftah wukin' ha'd all day,
It's amazin' nice to fin' my suppah all erpon de way;

An' it's nice to smell de coffee bubblin' ovah in de pot,
An' it's fine to see de meat a-sizzlin' teasin'-lak an' hot.

But when suppah time is ovah an' de things is cl'ared away,
Den de happy hours dat foller are de sweetes' ob de day.
When my co'n-cob pipe is sta'ted, an' de smoke is drawin'
prime,

My ole 'ooman says, "I reckon, Ike, it's candle-lightin' time."

Den de chillun snuggle up to me and all commence to call, "Oh, say, daddy, now it's time to make de shadders on de wall." So I puts my han's togethah-evah daddy knows de way An' de chillun snuggle closer roun' es I begin to say,

1 By permission of Dodd, Mead & Co., publishers. From "Lyrics of Lowly Life," 1896.

"Fus thing, hyeah come mistah Rabbit, don' you see him wuk his eahs?

Huh uh! dis mus' be a donky; look how innercent he 'pears! Dah's de ole black swan a-swimmin', ain't she got a' awfu' neck?

Who's dis feller dat's a-comin'? why, dat's ole dog Tray I 'spec!"

Dat's de way I run on, tryin' fer to please 'em all I can;

Den I hollahs, "Now be keerful, dis hyeah las' 's de buga-man!" An' dey runs an' hides dey faces; dey ain't skeered — dey's lettin' on,

But de play ain't raaly ovah twell dat buga-man is gone.

So I jes' takes up my banjo an' I plays a little chune,

An' you see dem hai'ds come peepin' out to listen mighty

soon.

Den my wife say, "Sich a pappy fer to give you sich a fright!

Jes' you go to bed, an' leave him, say yo' prayers, an' say good night."

A BIRD IN THE HAND

F. E. WEATHERLY

There were three young maids of Lee,
And they were fair as fair can be;
And they had lovers three times three,
For they were fair as fair can be,
These three young maids of Lee.

But these young maids they cannot find
A lover each to suit her mind;

The plain-spoke lad is far too rough,

The rich young lord not rich enough,
And one's too poor, and one too tall,
And one an inch too short for them all.

"Others pick and choose, and why not we?
We can very well wait," said these maids of Lee.

There were three young maids of Lee,
And they were fair as fair can be;
And they had lovers three times three,
For they were fair as fair can be,
These three young maids of Lee.

There are three old maids of Lee,
And they are old as old can be;
And one is deaf, and one can't see,

And they all are cross as a gallows tree,

These three old maids of Lee.

Now, if any one chanced - - 'tis a chance remote

One single charm in these maids to note,

He need not a poet nor handsome be,

For one is deaf, and one can't see;

He need not woo on his bended knee,

For they all are willing as willing can be;

He
may take the one or the two or the three,
If he'll only take them away from Lee.

There are three old maids at Lee,

And they are cross as cross can be;

And there they are, and there they'll be,
To the end of the chapter, one, two, three,
These three old maids of Lee!

"THE DAY OF JUDGMENT”1

ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS

I am thirteen years old and Jill is eleven and a quarter. Jill is my brother. That isn't his name, you know; his name is Timothy and mine is George Zacharias; but they call us Jack and Jill.

Well, Jill and I had an invitation to Aunt John's this summer, and that was how we happened to be there.

I'd rather go to Aunt John's than any place in the world. When I was a little fellow I used to think I'd rather go to Aunt John's than to Heaven. But I never dared to tell.

She invited us to come on the twelfth of August. It takes all day to get there. She lives at Little River in New Hampshire, way up. You have to wait at South Lawrence in a poky little depot, and you get some played out - at least I don't, but Jill does. So we bought a paper and Jill sat up and read it. When he'd sat a minute and read along —

"Look here!" said he.

"Look where?" said I.

"Why, there's going to be a comet," said Jill. "Who cares?" said I.

Jill laid down the paper, and crunched a pop-corn all up before he answered that, then said he, "I don't see why father didn't tell us. I suppose he thought we'd be frightened, or something. Why, s'posing the world did come to an end? That's what this paper says. "It is pre-' where is my place? Oh! I see 'predicted by learned men that a comet will come into con-conjunction with our plant' - no- 'our planet this night. Whether we shall be plunged into a wild vortex of angry space, or suffocated with n-o-x noxious gases, or scorched to a helpless crisp, or blasted at once, eternal an-ni-hi —”” A

1 From "Trot's Wedding Journey."