The next spring time, when the robins came home,
They sang over grasses and flowers
That grew where the foot of the ladder stood,
Whose top reached the heavenly bowers.
And the parents had dressed the pale, still child,
For her flight to the summer land,
In a fair white robe, with one snow white rose
Folded tight in her pulseless hand.
And now at the foot of the ladder they sit,
Looking upward with quiet tears,
Till the beckoning hand and the fluttering robe
Of the child at the top appears.
Mrs. L. M. Blinn.
* * * * *
"GOOD-BYE."
Did you ever hear two married women take leave of each other at the gate on a mild evening? This is how they do it:—"Good-bye!" "Good-bye! Come down and see us soon." "I will. Good-bye." "Good-bye! Don't forget to come soon." "No, I won't. Don't you forget to come up." "I won't. Be sure and bring Sarah Jane with you the next time." "I will. I'd have brought her this time, but she wasn't very well. She wanted to come awfully." "Did she now? That was too bad! Be sure and bring her next time." "I will; and you be sure and bring baby." "I will; I forgot to tell you that he's cut another tooth." "You don't say so! How many has he now?" "Five. It makes him awfully cross." "I dare say it does this hot weather. Well, good-bye! Don't forget to come down." "No, I won't. Don't you forget to come up. Goodbye!" And they separate.
* * * * *
THE WEDDING FEE.
One morning, fifty years ago,—
When apple trees were white with snow
Of fragrant blossoms, and the air
Was spell-bound with the perfume rare—
Upon a farm horse, large and lean,
And lazy with its double load,
A sun-browned youth, and maid were seen
Jogging along the winding road.