“His work was pressing, father dear,
  And his love for it was great;
He took his leave and went away
  Before a quarter of eight.”

Then a twinkle came to her bright blue eye,
  And her dimple deeper grew. 
“’Tis surely no sin to tell him that,
  For a quarter of eight is two.”

Lehigh Burr.

The District Telegraph Boy.

Hear the clatter of those feet;
See him coming up the street
                      On the trot! 
He is going to the Greens;
No, he’s going to the Dean’s,
                      Is he not?

See the uniform of blue,
And the shiny letters, too,
                      On his cap. 
I imagine he is quite
An intelligent and bright
                      Little chap.

What a careless tune he hums,
And how innocently comes
                      Hurrying. 
Ah, how little does he know
Of the happiness or woe
                      He can bring!

Now he brings a hopeless sigh. 
Now a sparkle to the eye,
                      Now a tear. 
More of griefs, I think, than joys—­
Why! the fateful little boy’s
                      Coming here!

Goodness, how he pulls the bell! 
He has some bad news to tell,
                      I’m afraid. 
Oh, I hope it’s not for me! 
Alice, sign for it, and see
                      If it’s paid.

It is surely not from Will,
For his morning smoke is still
                      In the air. 
Has poor uncle breathed his last? 
Has his weary spirit passed
                      From all care?

Then poor auntie is bereft,
And that sunny home is left
                      Fatherless. 
Or old cousin Ed and May
’Ve gone and had another ba-
                      By, I guess.

What if John has lost, poor man,
Little Clementine or Nan,
                      Or his wife! 
Oh, the hopefulness, the fears! 
Oh, the rapture!  Oh, the tears! 
                      Of this life!

I don’t like the thing a bit;
I don’t dare to open it;
                      How I shake! 
Why, It’s from that man of mine: 
“Will bring partner home to dine;
                      Get a steak."

LOUIS JONES MAGEE.
Wesleyan Argus.

Relapse.

I study Evolution,
And hear the teacher tell
How we have all developed
From an isolated cell;
And in the examination
Some fellows make it plain
Their principles will bring them
To the starting-point again.

CHARLES KELLOGG FIELD.
Sequoia.

Yale, A.D. 2000.

Far from the ball-room’s crowded throng
These two had strolled apart,
While he with fervor whispered of
Her image in his heart.

And that he might detain it there
Forever from that day,
Our Co-ed shyly gave to him
A Yale lock long and gray.