Rob was wild with delight. "Git up there, Jack! Hay, you old corn-crib! Say, Otto, can you keep your mouth shet if it puts money in your pocket?" "Jest try me 'n' see," said the keen-eyed little scamp. "Well, you keep quiet about my being here this afternoon, and I'll put a dollar on y'r tongue-hay?-what? — understand?" "Show me y'r dollar," said the boy, turning about and showing his tongue. She stood Her sullenness "All right. Begin to practise now by not talkin' to me." Rob went over the whole situation on his way back, and when he got in sight of the girl his plan was made. waiting for him with a new look on her face. had given way to a peculiar eagerness and anxiety to believe in him. She was already living that free life in a far-off wonderful country. No more would her stern father and sullen mother force her to tasks which she hated. She'd be a member of a new firm. She'd work, of course, but it would be because she wanted to, and not because she was forced to. The independence and the love promised, grew more and more attractive. She laughed back with a softer light in her eyes when she saw the smiling face of Rob looking at her from her sun-bonnet. "Now you must n't do any more o' this," he said. "You go back to the house an' tell y'r mother you 're too lame to plough any more to-day, and it's getting late, anyhow. Tonight!" he whispered quickly. "Eleven! Here!" The girl's heart leaped with fear. "I'm afraid." "Not of me, are yeh?" "No, I'm not afraid of you, Rob." "I'm glad o' that. I-I want you to like me, Julyie; won't you?" "I'll try," she answered, with a smile. "To-night, then," he said, as she moved away. "To-night. Good-by." "Good-by." He stood and watched her till her tall figure was lost among the drooping corn-leaves. There was a singular choking feeling in his throat. The girl's voice and face had brought up so many memories of parties and picnics and excursions on far-off holidays, and at the same time such suggestions of the future. He already felt that it was going to be an unconscionably long time before eleven o'clock. grass He saw her go to the house, and then he turned and, walked slowly up the dusty road. Out of the May-weed the hoppers sprang, buzzing and snapping their dull, red wings. Butterflies, yellow and white, fluttered around moist places in the ditch, and slender, striped water-snakes glided across the stagnant pools at sound of footsteps. But the mind of the man was far away on his claim, building a new house, with a woman's advice and presence. It was a windless night. The katydids and an occasional cricket were the only sounds Rob could hear as he stood beside his team and strained his ear to listen. At long intervals a little breeze ran through the corn like a swift serpent, bringing to the nostrils the sappy smell of the growing corn. The horses stamped uneasily as the mosquitoes settled on their shining limbs. The sky was full of stars, but there was no moon. "What if she don't come?" he thought. "Or can't come? I can't stand that. I'll go to the old man, an' say, 'Looky here' — 'Sh!” He listened again. There was a rustling in the corn. It was not like the fitful movement of the wind; it was steady, slower, and approaching. It ceased. He whistled the wailing, sweet cry of the prairie-chicken. Then a figure came out into the road - Julia! a woman He took her in his arms as she came panting up to him. "Rob!" A few words, the dull tread of swift horses, the rising of a silent train of dust, and then ing corn, the dust fell, a dog katydids sang to the liquid shallows, the wind wandered in the growbarked down the road, and the contralto of the river in its A WINTER BROOK. (From "Prairie Songs.") How sweetly you sang as you circled The elm's rugged knees in the sod, I know! for deep in the shade of your willows, I lay in the drowsy June weather, To the laughter I heard in your shallows, AT DUSK. (From "Prairie Songs.") INDOLENT I lie Beneath the sky Thick sown with clouds that soar and float Like stately swans upon the air, And in the hush of dusk I hear The ring-dove's plaintive, liquid note Sound faintly as a prayer. Against the yellow sky The grazing kine stalk slowly by; Like wings that spread and float and flee The clouds are drifting over me. The couching cattle sigh, And from the meadow damp and dark I hear the piping of the lark; While falling night-hawks scream and boom, Like rockets through the rising gloom, And katydids with pauseless chime Bear on the far frog's ringing rhyme. RICHARD GARNETT. RICHARD GARNETT, an English librarian, editor, and poet; born in Lichfield, England, Feb. 27, 1835. Keeper of Printed Books in the British Museum. He has edited the works of Shelley, De Quincey, Peacock, Drayton, and others; and is the author of biographies of Carlyle, Emerson, and Milton, in the "Great Writers" series. Besides contributions to periodicals and encyclopedias, he has published: "Io in Egypt, and Other Poems" (1859); "Poems from the German" (1862); "The Twilight of the Gods, and Other Tales" (1889); "Iphigenia in Delphi, a Dramatic Poem " (1890). THE FAIR CIRCASSIAN. FORTY Viziers saw I go Burning, each and every man, Ere the morn had disappeared, "Let the man that woos to win Each devoted Vizier did. From the beards a cord she made, When the Sultan heard, waxed he Sages all, this rhyme who read, Guard your beards with prudent heed, Of the fair Circassians. A NOCTURN. KEEN winds of cloud and vaporous drift They see her slumbering splendors lie A LITTLE IDLE SONG. WITHIN my fancy floats O listen to the notes! They will not keep thee long. I seek not to complain Of guile and banished peace; But O, when would it cease? I sing of happy fires, Of gladness and belief; A melody as brief. A MELODY. THE Snow falls fast upon the wave, The silver swan glides o'er its grave Their plumes along the shore. The buoyant lily does not see About its roots, but silently Grows up in beauty, and the bee |