An' Tom he wouldn't say a word,
Got mute in getting nigh her.

But Liz, she knowed jes by his move,
Tom loved her like tarnation,
An' every time she said a word

She seen him plush carnation.

She seen him husk the red ears out,
The bashful, foolish fellow,

As if each red one wasn't worth
A dozen piles o' yellow.

Their shock was jes' 'bout finished up,

An' Liz was busy twistin'

A great big ear, to get it off,

An' it was still resistin',

Until she said, "Do break it, Tom,"
She didn't know she hed one,
Till lookin' down she blushed an' cried,
"Oh! gracious, Tom, 't's a red one!"

An' Tom he gave her such a kiss

Stretched out 'twould make me twenty,
An' all that night, in all their shocks,
Red ears seemed mighty plenty.

THE LITTLE SISTER OF MERCY.-HELEN BOOTH Written expressly for this Collection.

The little Sister of Mercy sighed!

"Your life is narrow," the other women said, Her fellow passengers aboard the boat.

"And yet," said she, "I am not cast in mould
Heroic. I can do no thrilling deeds,
Although I praise-in looking out upon
The world of women, hearing what they do
To make their lives the fullness God delights
To view the perfect end of that which he
Began, and left for finishment by us."

"Your life might widen did you choose," said she, The elder of the four who talked apart:

"I have done what I could with my own life And know what others still might do with theirs. My husband is a senator, and he

Tells all the world I made him what he is,
That it was I who urged him to the front,
Who found the zest of his abilities

And forced it to achievement, taking him
From easeful leisure. To-day he stands a tower
Of strength, his party's beacon, varying not;
A man so filled with high ambition that
He has small time for aught but business;
A man who is one of his country's stars,
And who gives me the praise for all the light
He sheds." Her eyes were glowing.
"Woman makes
Her own life noble in her husband's hopes.
And you, pale little Sister, prisoned are,
Your life no fulcrum of a moving force."
The little Sister of Mercy sighed!

Another of the four outspake. She said,
"I am a writer, working hard for fame
That coquettes oft with effort. All my life
I have aimed for the highest; I will reach
My pinnacle in time, and then lie down
And feel I have done best with the great loan
Of life Our Father trusted me to wield.
And you that represent a Sisterhood,
Forgive me if I say you may mistake,
And take from out the world activity

The Lord meant should be in it. Think of this,
And if you be not selfish thus to live."
The little Sister of Mercy sighed!

"And, yes," the third of the four women said,
"I think you do mistake, small Sister in
The garb of a religious vanity.

I doubt not but your habit's every inch

Is law-prescribed, your every thought laid down
By rubric this or that. Deep in the world
I am, as Heaven placed me. I have sons
And daughters who for years I strove to lead
In useful lives. A son of mine now ploughs
The broad Atlantic, guiding a great ship
To find the Northern Pass. Another pens
The finance 'leaders' of a weighty sheet.
One daughter lives abroad, an artist famed,
Another will be wedded to a lord

Of lineage old, and wealth too much to spend.

But you, with hidden hair and ghostly veil,
Who think but of your own soul, not of those
About you-nay, I am not harsh, nor are
These other ladies; in truth, I would be kind.
You yet may understand your narrow life

And pray for more than your own sins. Now why
Are you thus traveling?—Are you on some quest
For the Superior of your Sisterhood?

Go you to learn a new embroidery stitch
For altar-decoration,—or to find

The truth of a reputed miracle?"
The lady smiled, as did the other two.
The little Sister of Mercy sighed!

" I am afraid to go into the world,

As you do, friends," she said, "I am not strong
And tire too soon. You are so very grand,
You ladies, and your lives so very rich
In blessing! Perhaps you'll pray for me,
That I may have my meed of usefulness?
Where do I go? Nay, not to learn a stitch-
I am too nervous to embroider well;

To prove a miracle I am much too low
In erudition and theology,

Though high in faith. Nay, nothing like this, friends;

I am not fit for great things, and my life

I fear is narrow as you say it is.

You know the fever is reported bad
In Memphis. I am going there to nurse,
As I did last year, and the year before."
The women looked at her; without a word
They separated and were no more seen.
The little Sister of Mercy, with her eyes
Fixed on the shining water felt how great
It must be to be helpful, and she prayed
For these three helpful women.

And she sighed!

SELLING THE BABY.-ADA CARLETON.

Beneath a shady elm tree

Two little brown-haired boys
Were complaining to each other
That they couldn't make a noise,

"And it's all that horrid baby,"
Cried Johnny, looking glum;
"She makes an awful bother;
I'most wish she hadn't come.

"If a boy runs through the kitchen,
Still as any mouse can creep,
Norah says, 'Now do be aisy,

For the baby's gone to sleep!'
And when, just now, I asked mamma
To fix my new straw cap,
She said she really couldn't

Till the baby took her nap!"

"I've been thinking we might sell her-
Fred thrust back his curly hair;
"Mamma calls her Little Trouble!'
So I don't believe she'd care.
We will take her down to Johnson's;
He keeps candy at his store;
And I wouldn't wonder, truly,
If she'd bring a pound or more;

"For he asked me if I'd sell her
When she first came, but, you see,
Then I didn't know she'd bother,
So I told him, 'No, sir-ree!'
He may have her now, and welcome;
I don't want her any more.

Get the carriage round here, Johnny,
And I'll fetch her to the door."

To the cool green-curtained bedroom
Freddy stole with noiseless feet,
Where mamma had left her baby
Fast asleep, serene and sweet.
Soft he bore her to the carriage,
All unknowing, little bird!
While of these two young kidnappers
Not a sound had mamma heard.

Down the street the carriage trundled;
Soundly still the baby slept;
Over two sun-browned boy-faces

Little sober shadows crept;

They began to love the wee one.

"Say," said Johnny, "don't you think

He will give for such a baby
Twenty pounds as quick as wink?”
"I'd say fifty," Fred responded,

With his brown eyes downward cast.
"Here's the store; it doesn't seem's though
We had come so awful fast!"

Through the door they pushed the carriage,
"Mister Johnson, we thought maybe
You would--wouldn't--would you-would you-
Would you like to buy a baby?”

Merchant Johnson's eyes were twinkling:
"Well, I would; just set your price,
Will you take your pay in candy?
I have some that's very nice.
But before we bind the bargain,

I would like to see the child!"
Johnny lifted up the afghan;

Baby woke and cooed, and smiled.

"It's a trade!" cried Merchant Johnson;
How much candy for the prize?"
Fred and Johnny looked at baby,
Then into each other's eyes.
All forgotten was the bother
In the light of baby's smile,
And they wondered if mamma had
Missed her daughter all the while.

"Candy's sweet, but baby's sweeter,"
Spoke up sturdy little Fred.
'Cause she is our own and onliest

Darling sister," Johnny said,

So I guess we'd better keep her.
But if we should ask him-maybe
When he knows you'd like to have one,
God will send you down a baby!"

Merchant Johnson laughed, and kindly
Ran their small hands o'er with sweet
Ere they wheel the baby homeward,
Back along the quiet street;

And mamma (who had not missed them)
Smiled to hear the little tale,
How they went to sell the baby,

How they didn't make the sale.