* * * * *

NO AND YES.

  I watched her at her spinning;
  And this was my beginning
  Of wooing and of winning.

  But when a maid opposes,
  And throws away your roses,
  You say the case forecloses.

  Yet sorry wit one uses,
  Who loves and thinks he loses
  Because a maid refuses.

  For by her once denying
  She only means complying
  Upon a second trying.

  When first I said, in pleading,
  “Behold, my love lies bleeding!”
  She heard me half unheeding.

  When afterward I told her,
  And blamed her growing colder,—­
  She dropped upon my shoulder.

  Had I a doubt?  That quelled it: 
  Her very look dispelled it,
  I caught her hand, and held it.

  Along the lane I led her,
  And while her cheeks grew redder,
  I sued outright to wed her.

  Good end from bad beginning! 
  My wooing came to winning,—­
  And still I watch her spinning.

* * * * *

THE MATHER SAFE.

The service I was able to render an official personage connected with ——­College in New England procured me access to the library belonging to that institution.  In common with many of my fellow-citizens, I had previously enjoyed the pleasure of responding to circulars petitioning for money to buy books for interment in this choice literary catacomb; nay, I was even allowed the satisfaction of an annual stare at them through an iron grating, and of reading a placard to the effect that nobody was allowed to enter an alcove or take down a volume.  As it occurred to me that the generous donors could not object to add one more to the select half-dozen or so, who, by having the privilege of the shelves, could really use the library, I demanded this favor of the gentleman who desired to recompense me for what I had done for him.  The Librarian, who valued books as things capable of being locked up in cells like criminals, there to figure numerically to the confusion of rival institutions, was manifestly disturbed when I presented my credentials.  The authority, however, was not to be questioned;—­I was to be admitted to the library at any hour of the day; and I took care to drop a civil expression to imply my estimation of the privilege and my purpose of enjoying it.

Wanting the leisure to attempt that ponderous undertaking known as “a course of reading,” it became my habit to browse about the building upon Saturday afternoons, and finally to establish myself, with whatever authors I had selected, in a certain retired alcove devoted to the metaphysicians.  This comfortable nook opens just behind Crawford’s bust of the late President T——­, and is nearly opposite the famous Mather Safe.  As it is possible that I am addressing some who are not graduates of ——­ College, nor familiar with its library, it may be well to say a word of the history of the spacious and ancient coffer to which allusion is made.