Just two days later, as I sat, half dozing, in my office chair, I heard a timid knock, and called, in my brusque fashion, "Who is there?"

An urchin entered, barely seven-the same Scotch face, the same blue eyes

And stood, half doubtful, at the door, abashed at my forbidding guise.

"Sir, if you please, my brother Jim-the one you give the crown, you know—

He couldn't bring the money, sir, because his back was hurted so.

"He didn't mean to keep the 'change.' He got runned over, up the street;

One wheel went right across his back, and t'other fore-wheel mashed his feet.

They stopped the horses just in time, and then they took him up for dead,

And all that day and yesterday he wasn't rightly in his head.

"They took him to the hospital-one of the newsboys knew 'twas Jim

And I went too, because, you see, we two are brothers, I and him.

He had that money in his hand, and never saw it any

more.

Indeed, he didn't mean to steal! He never stole a pin before!

"He was afraid that you might think he meant to keep it,

any way;

This morning when they brought him to, he cried because he

couldn't pay.

N

He made me fetch his jacket here; it's torn and dirtied pretty bad;

It's only fit to sell for rags, but then, you know, it's all he had.

"When he gets well-it won't be long-if you will call the money lent,

He says he'll work his fingers off but what he'll pay you every cent."

And then he cast a rueful glance at the soiled jacket where

it lay.

"No, no, my boy! take back the coat. Your brother's badly hurt you say?

"Where did they take him? Just run out and hail a cab, then wait for me.

Why, I would give a thousand coats, and pounds, for such a boy as he!"

A half-hour after this we stood together in the crowded wards, And the nurse checked the hasty steps that fell too loudly on the boards.

I thought him smiling in his sleep, and scarce believed her when she said,

Smoothing away the tangled hair from brow and cheek, "The boy is dead."

Dead? dead so soon? How fair he looked! One streak of sunshine on his hair.

Poor lad! Well, it is warm in heaven: no need of “change” and jackets there!

And something rising in my throat made it so hard for me to speak,

I turned away, and left a tear lying upon his sunburned

cheek.

[From "Harper's Weekly."]

ANONYMOUS.

BETSEY AND I ARE OUT.

Draw up the papers, lawyer, and make 'em good and stout: For things at home are crossways, and Betsey and I are out— We, who have worked together so long as man and wife, Must pull in single harness for the rest of our natʼral life.

"What is the matter? say you. I swan it's hard to tell! Most of the years behind us we've passed by very well! I have no other woman, she has no other man—

Only we've lived together as long as we ever can.

So I have talked with Betsey, and Betsey has talked with me,
And so we've agreed together that we can't never agree;
Not that we've catched each other in any terrible crime;
We've been a-gathering this for years, a little at a time.

There was a stock of temper we both had for a start,
Although we never suspected 'twould take us two apart;
I had my various failings, bred in the flesh and bone;
And Betsey, like all good women, had a temper of her own.

The first thing I remember whereon we disagreed
Was something concerning heaven-a difference in our creed;
We arg❜ed the thing at breakfast, we arg'ed the thing at tea,
And the more we arg❜ed the question the more we didn't agree.

And the next that I remember was when we lost a cow;
She had kicked the bucket for certain, the question was
only-How?

I held my own opinion, and Betsey another had;
And when we were done a-talkin', we both of us was mad.

And the next that I remember, it started in a joke;
But full for a week it lasted, and neither of us spoke.
And the next was when I scolded because she broke a bowl;
And she said I was mean and stingy, and hadn't any soul.

And so that bowl kept pourin' dissensions in our cup;
And so that blamed cow-creature was always a-comin' up;
And so that heaven we arg'ed no nearer to us got,

But it gave us a taste of something a thousand times as hot.

And so the thing kept workin', and all the self-same way;
Always somethin' to arg'e, and somethin' sharp to say;
And down on us came the neighbours, a couple dozen strong,
And lent their kindest sarvice for to help the thing along.

And there has been days together-and many a weary week

We was both of us cross and spunky, and both too proud to

speak;

And I have been thinkin' and thinkin', the whole of the winter and fall,

If I can't live kind with a woman, why, then, I won't at all.

And so I have talked with Betsey, and Betsey has talked

with me,

And we have agreed together that we can't never agree;
And what is hers shall be hers, and what is mine shall be

mine;

And I'll put it in the agreement, and take it to her to sign.

Write on the paper, lawyer-the very first paragraph-
Of all the farm and live-stock that she shall have her half;
For she has helped to earn it, through many a weary day,
And it's nothing more than justice that Betsey has her pay.

Give her the house and homestead-a man can thrive and roam;

But women are skeery critters, unless they have a home;
And I have always determined, and never failed to say,
That Betsey should never want a home if I was taken away.

There is a little hard money that's drawin' tol'rable pay:
A couple of hundred dollars laid by for a rainy day;
Safe in the hands of good men, and easy to get at ;
Put in another clause there, and give her half of that.

Yes, I see you smile, sir, at my givin' her so much;
Yes, divorce is cheap, sir, but I take no stock in such!
True and fair I married her, when she was blithe and young;
And Betsey was al'ays good to me, exceptin' with her tongue.

Once, when I was young as you, and not so smart, perhaps,
For me she mittened a lawyer, and several other chaps;
And all of them was flustered, and fairly taken down,
And I for a time was counted the luckiest man in town.

Once when I had a fever-I won't forget it soon

I was hot as a basted turkey and crazy as a loon;

Never an hour went by me when she was out of sight—

She nursed me true and tender, and stuck to me day and

night.

And if ever a house was tidy, and ever a kitchen clean,
Her house and kitchen was as tidy as any

I ever seen;
And I don't complain of Betsey, or any of her acts,
Excepting when we've quarrelled, and told each other facts.

So draw up the paper, lawyer, and I'll go home to-night,
And read the agreement to her, and see if it's all right;
And then, in the mornin', I'll sell to a tradin' man I know,
And kiss the child that was left to us, and out in the world

I'll go.

And one thing put in the paper, that first to me didn't occur;
That when I am dead at last she'll bring me back to her;
And lay me under the maples I planted years ago,
When she and I was happy before we quarrelled so.