"
So she took them, and twisted, and placed them
In the newly made curls of her hair.
E.W. BURLINGAME.
_Yale Record_.
~Evidence.~
Of all the lines that volumes fill,
Since Aesop first his fables told,
The wisest is the proverb old,
That every Jack must have his Jill.
But when the crowd that nightly fills
The down-town places, hillward goes,
To hear them sing, one would suppose
That every Jack had several gills.
B.O.H.
_Cornell Magazine_.
~The Widow's Mite.~
She was a widow stern and spry,
And brimming with lots of fight;
She married a little man five feet high,
And he died from the widow's might.
_Columbia Spectator_.
~Lines to Her.~
There are other fellows nearer,--
And some of them are dearer,--
Of those sad thoughts my heart has
not
a
doubt.
But I want to get in line
With my little Valentine,
So's not to let those fellows
cut
me
out.
CHARLES FLOYD McCLURE.
_Wisconsin Aegis_.
~A Sensible Serenade.~
I sing beneath your lattice, love,
A serenade in praise of you;
The moon is getting rather high,
My voice is, too, my voice is, too.
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