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Twas Kathie broke upon me like a blushing, summer morning,

And a half-oped rosy clover reddened underneath her

tread.

Then I looked up at Kathie, and her eyes were full of laughter;

"Oh, Kathie, Kathie Morris, I am lying at your feet; Bend above me, say you love me, that you'll love me ever after,

Or let me lie and die here, in the fragrant meadow, sweet!” And then I turned my face away, and trembled at my

daring,

For wildly, wildly had I spoke, with flashing cheek and

eye;

And there was silence; I looked up, all pallid and despair

ing,

For fear she'd take me at my word, and leave me there to die.

The silken fringes of her eyes upon her cheeks were dropping,

Her merciless white fingers tore a blushing bud apart; Then, quick as lightning, Kathie came, and kneeling half and stooping,

She hid her bonny, bonny face against my beating heart! Oh, nestle, nestle, nestle there! the heart would give thee greeting;

Lie thou there, all trustfully, in trouble and in pain; This breast shall shield thee from the storm and bear its bitter beating,

These arms shall hold thee tenderly in sunshine and in rain.

Old sexton, set your chimes in tune, and let there be no snarling;

Ring out a happy wedding hymn to all the listening air; And, girls, strew roses as she comes,-the scornful browneyed darling,

A princess, by the wavy gold and glistening of her hair! Hark! hear the bells! The Christmas bells? Oh, no; who set them ringing?

I think I hear our bridal bells, and I with joy am blindJohnny, don't make such a noise! I hear the robins singing,

And the petals of the apple-blooms are ruffled in the wind.

Ah, Kathie! you've been true to me in fair and cloudy

weather,

Our Father has been good to us when we've been sorely

tried;

I pray to God, when we must die, that we may die together, And slumber softly underneath the clover, side by side.

THE LITTLE BROWN CURL.

A quaint old box with a lid of blue,
All faded and worn with age;
A soft little curl of a brownish hue,
A vellow and half-written page.

The letters, with never a pause nor dot,
In a school-boy's hand are cast;
The lines and the curl I may hold to-day,
But the love of the boy is past.

It faded away with our childish dreams,
Died out like the morning mist,

And I look with a smile on the silken curl
That once I had tenderly kissed.

One night in the summer-so long ago—
We played by the parlor door,

And the moonlight fell, like a silver veil,
Spreading itself on the floor.

And the children ran on the graveled walk
At play in their noisy glee;

But the maddest, merriest fun just then
Was nothing to John and me.

For he was a stately boy of twelve,
And I was not quite eleven-

We thought as we sat by the parlor door
We had found the gate to heaven.
That night when I lay on my snowy bed,
Like many a foolish girl,

I kissed and held to my little heart
This letter and silken curl.

I slept and dreamed of the time when I
Should wake to a fairy life;

And, sleeping, blushed when I thought that John
Had called me his little wife.

I have loved since then with a woman's heart,
Have known all a woman's bliss,

But never a dream of the after life
Was ever so sweet as this.

The years went by with their silver feet,
And often I laughed with John

At the vows we made by the parlor door
When the moon and stars looked on.
Ah! boyish vows were broken and lost,
And a girl's first dream will end,
But I dearly loved his beautiful wife
While he was my husband's friend.
When last I went to my childhood's home
Far over the bounding wave,

I missed my friend, for the violets grew
And blossomed over his grave.

To-day as I opened the old blue box,

And looked on this soft brown curl,

And read of the love John left for me
When I was a little girl,

There came to my heart a throb of pain,

And my eyes grew moist with tears

For the childish love and the dear, dear friend,
And the long-lost, buried years.

JUSTICE IN LEADVILLE.-1878.

HELEN HINSDALE RICH.

Yes, law is a great thing, mister, but justice comes in ahead When a lie makes a fiend not guilty, and the neighbor he shot is dead.

Leadville would follow the fashion,-have regular courts of law:

I take no stock in lawyers, don't gamble upon their jaw. But the judge, he said Gueldo undoubtedly did for Blake, And he ought to give him a trial just for appearance sake; That Texas chap can't clear him, the lead's too rich to hide. And the black neck of the Spaniard on the air-line's bound to ride.

So I tried to believe in the woman

her eyes,"

with the bandage upon

Though one side's as likely as t'other to drop from the beam

or rise

If a nugget should tip the balance or a false tongue cry the weight;

But I thought I'd see if a trial was the regular thing" for

Kate,

So I went to her pretty cottage; the widow's a tidy thing,Great mournful eyes, and a head of hair as brown as a heron's wing.

Her husband's murder was cruel; Antonio, fierce and sly, Had sworn revenge for a trifle when some of the boys were nigh.

She had tripped to her bed of pansies, for Blake was going

away;

While he bent to embrace their baby she gathered a love bouquet:

She heard a voice,-Gueldo's,-a shot-and she ran to Jim;

But the babe's white dress was scarlet, and the father's eyes were dim.

You've heard the cry of a bittern?-it was just that sort of a noise;

It brought us there in a hurry, the women and half the boys.

She tried to tell us the story,-her white lips only stirred; She seemed to slip quite out of life, and couldn't utter a word.

She told us at last in writing, only a name,—and then

Six derringers found his level, his guard was a dozen men. She didn't take on, seemed frozen,-but Lord! what a ghastly face!

With slow, sad steps, like the shade of joy, she crept round the woful place,

And when we lifted the coffin she knelt with her little child,

Just whispered to Jim and kissed him; we said, "She is going wild."

Ah, deep things yield no token, and she wa'n't surface gold; "Twas a gloomy job prospecting round the claim Jim couldn't hold,

But I found her rocking the baby, her chin in the dainty palm,

White as the shaver's pillow, tearless and dreadful calm.
I told her about the trial, she shuddered, her great black

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prise.

-or may be it was sur

"They never can clear Gueldo; he cannot escape for I Can swear to his hissing Spanish,—that I saw him turn and fly!"

"No, never," I said, "his ticket is good for the underground. He's due this time to-morrow where he won't find Blake around."

The judge held court in his wood-house, and Bagget had stripped his store

Of barrel and box; I never set eyes on a crowd before.

I dropped on a keg of ciscos, the judge on a box of soap; Gueldo and his attorney found seats on a coil of rope. Then Kate came, with her baby like a rosebud in the snow, Its pink cheek 'gainst the mother's, pallid and pinched with woe.

Jim's blue eyes, as I live, sir! there were his very curls; They set us miners to sobbing like a corral of silly girls. She looked so thankful on us, colored, and when she met The snake eyes of Gueldo, the braids on her brow were wet; And if the hell of the preachers had yawned on our gentle Kate,

She couldn't have glared such horror or woman's deadly hate.

So they went on with the trial; an alibi, it was claimed, Would be urged for the wolf defendant; the judge,—well, he looked ashamed

When ten of the hardest rascals, the cruelest, meanest lot, Swore, black and blue, Gueldo was four miles from the spot With them a-hunting the grizzly; then the Texan plead his case,

Till the judge turned pale as ashes,-couldn't look in an honest face.

"Your verdict, my men of the jury, must be grounded, I suppose,

On the weight of the testimony; if you have any faith in those

Reliable fellows from Gouger, the prisoner wasn't thar." And his honor growled upon him like a vexed and hungry b'ar.

I've noticed the newest convert prays loudest of all the

camp,

And that mutton-headed jury declared for the cussed

scamp.

For nothing Kate's truthful story; the evidence went, you

see,

To disprove the facts; Gueldo by the law was acquitted free.

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