The black pullet brushed against him and his heart warmed—but she was only enflight to the limb overhead. She leaned forward and spoke to him, drowsily: “I am sorry, Jeremiah. It is the old story and I can only advise you to get used to it. Don’t you give up. Remember, you can have anything in this world you want if you keep after it until you get it; that is one of the fixed laws of the universe. I think you will find Mrs. Cochin in the end coop now. I saw Dollie gathering the chickens into her apron and carrying Mrs. Cochin by the wing. It might be well to excite her jealousy. You may say to her that I have at last consented to be yours. Tell her that you have come to bid her a final farewell. Give her back that scar she made on your neck and assure her that I am a jealous god and object to your even passing the time of day with her.” Jeremiah hastened to the end coop. Between the slats he recognized the profile of his beloved, hovering her fluffs. He tried to get his head inside, but the openings were too small and he could get in only as far as his eyes. “I have come to say farewell,” he breathed, hoarsely. “I have found one younger and fairer than you.” His soul revolted when he said “fairer,” for Jeremiah hates a lie, and even if Miss Dominie be a diamond it cannot be denied she is of the charcoal variety. “I may see you sometimes,” he continued, “for I do not expect to leave the farm, and I wish you to know that the bright particular star of my life has blazed out and henceforth I am hers alone.” Jeremiah gushed on, rapturing over his new attraction until he half convinced himself; gushed on, rapturing, until Mrs. Cochin lifted her head and struck him with her bill. “You make me very tired,” she said. “If you have any respect for your lady love, keep your mouth shut about her. Don’t let everybody know you are a goose. Of course, you would be just as big a goose if you kept your mouth shut, but everybody wouldn’t know it. Even a gander owes that much to himself: not to let it get out how big a goose he is.” Saying this, she tucked her head and sang a soft lullaby to her fluffs, and their faint, sweet “peep, peep,” lost in a low croon of content, sounded to forlorn Jeremiah like music behind the locked gates of paradise. Sadly he clambered upon the back of an old wagon seat, half way between the end coop and the black pullet; and the friendly dark came down; and old Jeremiah lost the ache of self in the oblivion of sleep. Emily Frances Smith. THE ORIOLE. A flash of gold and black against the sky, A perch upon the orchard’s topmost bough, A strain of such unmingled ecstasy, The lingering echoes thrill the silence now. A hanging nest so beautifully shaped, So softly lined, close woven, firm and strong, A bright-eyed mate to brood above the eggs, And listen to that rhapsody of song.