The other night, enraptured quite,
With spirits raised full high,
In careless fit, attempting wit,
I made a dear friend cry.
And though to me, who seems care free,
Her feelings, hurt, give pain,
Yet much I'd pay on any day,
To see those tears again.
For artists grand, with master hand,
Could ne'er exactly trace,
Those tear dimmed eyes, like stars in skies,
Half hid by clouded face.
And as I gazed, full well amazed,
In those eyes I'd learned to love,
I craved the bliss of one wee kiss
And thus the sting remove.
So in formal way, I wish to say,
I grieve my thoughtless act,
Yet in my heart the truth will start,
I want that moment back.
W. CLYDE COOPER.
A Midnight Reverie.
IT was about midnight and dark as a dungeon outdoors. It had been a
' dark, misty day, and as night fell the clouds seemed to settle down over
the earth, enveloping it with a gloominess that caused people to shudder as
they looked out, and to turn up the lamp or light an extra candle in order to
drive the dreariness from their rooms; but all in vain. An ordinary noise
increased in volume and reverberated until one thought it would never stop.
A single dog barking away off in the distance seemed to only increase the stillness.
I was alone in my room. A friend and I had pledged each other that we
would not smoke any more until the Christmas holidays. 1 had bought him
off for this one day and how I had smoked. Five centers, ten centers and
twenty-five centers had been burned up recklessly. I had been bound to enjoy
my respite. It now lacked but a few minutes to midnight and I picked up a
long, nice, fat cigar to see how much of it I could burn up before the clock should
cease striking the hour that should end my day of enjoyment. The cigar smelled
good. I bit off the end. It tasted good. I was in the act of applying a match
to it when I was startled by a squeaking voice which said in the most nonchalant
manner, "Oh! no, I wouldn't now if I were you." 1 was startled for 1 knew
that I was alone, but from whence came that voice. 1 looked about me but
nowhere could I see anyone. I dropped the cigar. "Look before you, look
before you," squeaked the voice. I looked, and there sitting on my desk in the
fashion of tailors sat the wickedest, most diminutive little red devil imaginable.
He wasn't more than four inches high and wore the conventional red suit. His