Ere slumber comes—just then bestow
One thought on me.
And if your fancy can but paint
A modest maid, not quite a saint,
In stature small, in visage fair,
Mild and discreet,
’Tis she would free your mind from care
With whispers sweet.
Upon the reception of which, it may be as well to mention, our anticipated doctor of divinity had laid his hand most impressively upon his heart, in token of his appreciating divination of a passion so divine.
Next we have a Valentine upon the tiniest of all tiny sheets of gilt-edged note-paper. It is inscribed to little Helen Bond.