"I hope you are not getting uneasy, Gus," said Joe.
"There is evident reason," observed Jack, "to suspect that his appreciation of the marvels of science is insufficient to preserve—"
"Oh, bother! Jack, don't give us your college stuff now, after the Professor has told us so much. We like to hear him, of course. I do, for one, a great deal better than I thought I should. But then a fellow can't help getting tired."
BABY'S EYES.
When the baby's eyes are blue,
Think we of a summer day,
Violets, and dancing rills.
When the baby's eyes are gray,
Doves and dawn are brought to mind.
Brown—of gentle fawns we dream,
And ripe nuts in shady woods.
Black—of midnight skies that gleam
With bright stars. But blue or gray,
Black or brown, like flower or star,
Sweeter eyes can never be
To mamma than baby's are.