"What's that you hug so much, my Plymouth Rocker?"
He nervously clutched his treasure, and says he:
"It's an unpublished poem of the Honorable Edward, which I found in a very old album in Beacon street. It's an immortal and unpublished poem," says he, fondly taking a roll of manuscript from the oilskin wrapper,—"by the greatest and most silent statesman of the age. You'll recognize the style at once.—Listen—
"ADVICE TO A MAID.
"Perennial maiden, thou art no less fair
Than those whose fairness barely equals thine;
And like a cloud on Athos is thy hair,
Touched with Promethean fire to make it shine
Above the temple of a soul divine;
And yet, methinks, it doth resemble, too,