We are not much given to crying--
We men that run on the road--
But that night, they said, there were faces,
With tears on them, lifted to God.
For years in the eve and the morning,
As I neared the cabin again,
My hand on the lever pressed downward
And slackened the speed of the train.
When my engine had blown her a greeting,
She always would come to the door,
And her look with the fullness of heaven
Blesses me evermore.
* * * * *
FASHIONABLE SINGING.
Miss Julia was induced to give a taste of her musical powers, and this is
how she did it. She flirted up her panniers, coquettishly wiggle-waggled to
the piano and sang--
"When ther moo-hoon is mi-hild-ly be-ahming
O'er ther ca-halm and si-hi-lent se-e-e-e,
Its ra-dyance so-hoftly stre-heam-ing
Oh! ther-hen, Oh! ther-hen,
I thee-hink
Hof thee-hee,
I thee-hink,
I thee-hink,
I thee-he-he-he-he-he-he-hink hof thee-e-e-e-e!"
"Beautiful, Miss Julia! Beautiful!" and we all clapped our hands.
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