POPPING THE QUESTION.

I knew by his looks what he'd come for: I plainly had seen from the first,

It must come to this sooner or later; and I'd made up my mind for the worst.

So I hid myself under the curtains, where the loving pai couldn't see me,

In order to watch their proceedings, and hear what he said unto she.

I saw he was fearfully nervous, that in fact he was suffering pain,

By the way that he fussed with his collar, and poked all the chairs with his cane;

Then he blushed; then he wouldn't look at her, but kept his eyes fixed on the floor,

And took the unusual precaution of taking his seat near the door.

He began, "It is-er-er-fine weather,-remarkable weath. er for May."

Do you think so?" said she; "it is raining."-" Oh! so it is raining to-day.

I meant, 'twill be pleasant to-morrow," he stammered; "erer-do you skate?"

"Oh, yes!" she replied, “at the season; but isn't May rather too late?"

The silence that followed was awful: he continued, “I see a sweet dove

('Twas only an innocent sparrow; but blind are the eyes of true love),

"A dove of most beautiful plumage, on the top of that widespreading tree,

Which reminds me,"--she sighed,-"O sweet maiden! which reminds me, dear angel, of thee."

Her countenance changed in a moment: there followed a terrible pause:

I felt that the crisis was coming, and hastily dropped on all fours,

In order to see the thing better. His face grew as white as

a sheet:

He gave one spasmodic effort, and lifelessly dropped at her

feet.

She said

What she said I won't tell you. She raised the poor wretch from the ground.

I drew back my head for an instant

what was that sound?

Good heavens! Oh!

I eagerly peered through the darkness,-for twilight had made the room dim,

And plainly perceived it was kissing, and kissing not all done by him.

I burst into loud fits of laughter: I know it was terribly

mean;

Still I couldn't resist the temptation to appear for a while on the scene.

But she viewed me with perfect composure, as she kissed him again with a smile,

And remarked, 'twixt that kiss and the next one, that--she'd known I was there all the while.

RETURN OF THE HILLSIDE LEGION.-ETHE LYNN,

What telegraphed word,
The village hath stirred?

Why eagerly gather the people;
And why do they wait

At crossing and gate

Why flutters the flag on the steeple?

Why, stranger, do tell-
It's now a smart spell

Since our sogers went marchin' away,
And we calculate now

To show the boys how

We can welcome the Legion to-day.

Bill Allendale's drum

Will sound when they come,

And there's watchers above on the hill,
To let us all know,

When the big bugles blow,

To hurrah with a hearty good will.

All the women folks wait
By the 'Cademy gate,

With posies all drippin' with dew;

The Legion shan't say

We helped them away,

And forgot them when service was through.

My Jack 's comin' too,
He's served the war through;

Hark, the rattle and roar of the train!
There's bugle and drum,

Our sogers have come!

Hurrah! for the boys home again.

'Stand aside! stand aside!
Leave a space far and wide
Till the regiment forms on the track."
Two soldiers in blue,
Two men-only two

Stepped off, and the Legion was back.
The hurrah softly died,

In the space far and wide,

As they welcomed the worn weary men;
The drum on the hill
Grew suddenly still,

And the bugle was silent again.

I asked Farmer Shore

A question no more,

For a sick soldier lay on his breast! While his hand, hard and brown, Stroked tenderly down,

The locks of the weary at rest.

ARCHIE DEAN.-GAIL HAMILTON.

Would you laugh, or would you cry?
Would you break your heart and die,
If you had a dashing lover

Like my handsome Archie Dean,
And he should forget his wooing
By the moon, the stars, the sun,
To love me evermore,

And should go to Kittie Carrol,
Who has money, so they say-
And with eyes love-filled as ever,
Win her heart, that's like a feather,

Vowing all he had before?

Prithee, tell me, would you cry,
And grow very sad and die?

Always, in the old romances
That dear Archie read to me,

Those that pleased my girlish fancy,
There was always sure to be
One sweet maiden with a lover

Who was never, never true;

And when they were widely parted,

Then she died, poor broken-hearted,
And did break with grief at last,

Like a lily in the blast

Say, would you, if you were me?

True, I do love Archie Dean,
Love him, love him, oh! how true;
But see, my eyes are bright,
And my lips and cheeks are red,
(Archie Dean put that in my head!)
And I don't know what to do,
Whether to lie down and weep
Till the red is faded out,
And my eyes are dull and dim,
Maybe blind, and all for him;
(I could do it, I've no doubt.)
Or loop up my pretty hair
With the brightest knots of ribbon,
And the very sweetest roses,
And go to the village fair,
Where he'll be with Kittie Carrol,
And will see me dance the wildest
With some bonny lad that's there,
Just to show how much I care.

Archie Dean! Archie Dean!
"Tis the sweetest name I know,

It is writ on my heart, but o'er it now

Is drifting the cold snow.

Archie Dean! Archie Dean!

There's a pain in my heart while I speak;

I wonder if always the thought of your name
Will make me so saddened and weak.

Archie Dean! Archie Dean!

I remember that you said

Your name should be mine and I should be

The happiest bride e'er wed.

I little thought of a day like this
When I could wish I were dead.

But there goes the clock, the hour is near
When I must be off to the fair;

I'll go and dance and dance and dance
With the bonny lads who are there,
In my dress of blue with crimson sash
Which he always liked to see.

I'll whirl before him as fast as I can,
I'll laugh and chatter, yes, that is my plan,

And I know that before the morn

He'll wish that Kittie Carrol had never been born,

And that he could be sitting again

Close by my side in the green meadow lane,

Vowing his love in a tender strain.

But when I see him coming,

I'll turn my eyes with softest glance

On somebody else-then off in the dance

KKKK

And if he should happen to get the chance,
For saying how heartily sorry he is

For having been false to me he loves true,
I won't hear a word that he says, would you?

What you'd better do, Jennie Mars
Break your heart for Archie Dean?
Jennie Marsh! Jennie Marsh!

Not a bit.

'Tis the very thing he's after.
He would say to Kittie Carrol,
With careless, mocking laughter,
Here's a pretty little chick,
Who has died for love of me,
"Tis a pity.

But what is a man to do
When the girls beset him so?
If he gives a nosegay here,
If he calls another dear,
If he warbles to a third
A love ditty,

Why, the darling little innocents
Take it all to heart.
Alack-a-day!

Ah! she was a pretty maiden,
A little too fond-hearted,
Eyes a little too love-laden,
But really, when we parted—
Well, she died for love of me,
Kittie Carrol. Don't you see
You are giving him to Kittie
Just as sure as sure can be.

'Tis the way he takes to woo her,

By slyly showing to her,

What a dashing, slashing beau is at her feet,

And of all the pretty pratings

About a woman's deathless loving

And her ever faithful proving,

And her womanly devotion,

I've a very wicked notion

That to carry off the one

That Mary here is sighing for,
And Fanny there is dying for,
Is more than half the happiness,
And nearly all the fun.

Now if I were a man,

Jennie Marsh! Jennie Marsh'
If I only were a man

For a day

I'm a maiden, so I can't