Conversation flagged a moment,

Hopeless, Ned essayed another:

“Annie, I—I,” then a coughing,

And the question, “How’s your mother!”

“Mother? Oh, she’s doing nicely!”

Fleeting fast was all forbearance,

When in low, despairing accents

Came the climax, “How’s your parents?”

WANTED, A MINISTER’S WIFE.