Curious, the ways of these folk of humble and hardy condition :

Kisses, amongst ourselves, bless me, how much they imply!

Ere you can come to a kiss, you must scale the whole gamut of courtship

Introduction first; pretty attentions and words;

Tentative looks; and at length, perhaps the touch of a finger;

Then the confession; and then (if she allow it) the kiss.

So that a kiss comes last

't is the crown and seal of the whole thing; Passion avow'd by you, fondly accepted by her.

But in our Dorothy's class, a kiss only marks the beginning :

Comes me a light-hearted swain, thinking of nothing at all;

Flings his fustian sleeve round the ample waist of the maiden ; Kisses her cheek, and she

thrusts him away.

laughingly

Why, 't is a matter of course; every goodlooking damsel expects it ;

'Tis but the homage, she feels, paid to her beauty by men:

'T was but a poor little room: a farmservant's loft in a garret ;

One small window and door; never a chimney at all;

One little stool by the bed, and a remnant of cast-away carpet;

But on the floor, by the wall, carefully dusted and bright,

Stood the green-painted box, our Dorothy's closet and wardrobe,

Holding her treasures, her all-all that she own'd in the world!

Linen and hosen were there, coarse linen and home-knitted hosen ; Handkerchiefs bought at the fair, aprons and smocks not a few;

Kirtles for warmth when afield, and frocks for winter and summer,

Blue-spotted, lilac, gray; cotton and woolen and serge;

All her simple attire, save the clothes she felt most like herself in

Rough, coarse workaday clothes, fit for a laborer's wear.

There was her Sunday array

-the boots, and the shawl, and the bonnet, Solemnly folded apart, not to be lightly

assumed;

There was her jewelry, too: 't was a brooch (she had worn it this evening)

Made of cairngorm stone-really too splendid for her!

Which on a Martlemas Day Mr. Robert had bought for a fairing:

Little she thought, just then, how she would value it now!

As for her sewing gear, her housewife, her big brass thimble,

Knitting and suchlike work, such as her fingers could do,

That was away downstairs, in a dresserdrawer in the kitchen,

Ready for use of a night, when she was

Dolly" she was to herself, and to every one else she was "Dolly" ; Nothing but "Dolly”; and so, that was enough for a name.

never

Thus then, her great, green box, her one undoubted possession, Stood where it was; like her, " went nowhere" at all; Waited, perhaps, as of old, some beautiful Florentine bride-chest,

Till, in the fulness of time, He, the Beloved, appears.— Was there naught else in her room? nothing handy for washing or dressing? Yes; on a plain deal stand, basin, and ewer, and dish:

All of them empty, unused; for the sink was the place of her toilet; Save on a Sunday - and then, she too could dress at her ease; Then, by the little sidewall of the diamonded dormer-window

She at a sixpenny glass brush'd out her

bonny bright hair.

Ah, what a poor little room! Would you like to sleep in it, ladies?

Innocence sleeps there unharm'd; Honor,

and Beauty, and Peace

Love, too, has come; and with these, even dungeons were easily cheerful;

But, for our Dorothy's room, it is no dungeon at all.

No! through the latticed panes of the diamonded dormer-window

Dorothy looks on a world free and fa miliar and fair:

Looks on the fair farm-yard, where the poultry and cattle she lives with Bellow and cackle and low-music delightful to her;

Looks on the fragrant fields, with cloudshadows flying above them,

Singing of birds in the air, woodlands and waters around.

She in those fragrant meads has wrought, every year of her girlhood;

Over those purple lands she, too, has follow'd the plough;

And, like a heifer afield, or a lamb that is yean'd in the meadows,

She, to herself and to us, seems like a part of it all.

BEAUTY AT THE PLOUGH

Thus then, one beautiful day, in the sweet, cool air of October,

High up on Breakheart Field, under the skirts of the wood,

Dolly was ploughing she wore (why did I not sooner describe it?)

Just such a dress as they all—all the farm-servants around;

Only, it seem'd to be hers by a right divine and a fitness

Color and pattern and shape suited so aptly to her.

First, on her well-set head a lilac hoodbonnet of cotton,

Framing her amberbright hair, shading her neck from the sun;

Then, on her shoulders a shawl; a coarse red kerchief of woolen,

Matching the glow of her cheeks, lighting her berry-brown skin;

Then came a blue cotton frock- dark blue, and spotted with yellow

Sleev'd to the elbows alone, leaving her bonny arms bare;

So that those ruddy brown arms, with the dim, dull blue for a background

"It keeps the scent for years," said he,
(And thou hast kept it);

"And when you scent it, think of me."
(He could not mean thus bitterly.)
Ah! I had swept it

Into the dust where dead things rot,
Had I then believ'd his love was not
What I have wept it.

Between the leaves of this holy book,
O flower undying!

A worthless and wither'd weed in look,
I keep thee lying.

The bloom of my life with thee was pluck'd,
And a close-press'd grief its sap hath suck'd,
Its strength updrying.

Thy circles of leaves, like pointed spears, My heart pierce often;

They enter, it inly bleeds, no tears

The hid wounds soften;

Yet one will I ask to bury thee

In the soft white folds of my shroud with

me,

Ere they close my coffin.

fields !

The sesamum was sesamum, the corn

And planting wholesome seedlings where they grew,

The Caliph's face was stern and red,

He snapp'd the lid upon the cup; "Keep this same sherbet, slave," he said, "Till such time as I drink it up. Wallah! the stream my drink shall be, My hallow'd palm my only bowl, Till I have set that lady free,

And seen that Roumi dog's head roll."

At dawn the drums of war were beat,
Proclaiming, "Thus saith Mohtasim,
'Let all my valiant horsemen meet,
And every soldier bring with him
A spotted steed.'" So rode they forth,
A sight of marvel and of fear;