“Whew! Whose little innocents were those in front?” “Master Pushaw Jones and Master Johnny Macfuss.” Mr. Seymour paused. “Fanny,” said he at length, “I’ll go to Texas. I see that Mrs. Macfuss has been over, and is intimate!” * * * * * LINES TO AN IDEA THAT WOULDN’T “COME.” BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD. “Why thus longing, thus forever sighing For the far off, unattained and dim? “Has Hope like the bird in the story, That flitted from tree to tree, With the talisman’s glittering glory. Has Hope been that bird to thee?” Oh! fondly wished for, why delay? This virgin page awaits thee— It’s waited since the dawn of day— What can it be belates thee? Thou ne’er wilt find a nicer couch, A softer or a fairer? Thou ne’er wilt find a desk to which Thy coming could be rarer. Oh! airy rover, rainbow-winged! Oh! coy and cold deceiver! Alight upon this beggar leaf, And blessèd be forever! Alight and shut your gleaming wing, And let my verse be amber, To make for you, while glad you sing, A fitting, fairy chamber! Whether around the dainty tip Of Whitman’s pen you hover, Or rest on Greenwood’s rosy lip, To greet some poet-lover; Or hide in glorious Hewitt’s heart Until you’re robed divinely, Or lend impassioned Eva’s line The glow she paints so finely. Oh! fly them all, and fly to me! I’ll entertain ye rarely; My happy pen your host shall be, And introduce you fairly. I’ll dress you in the prettiest words You possibly can think of, I’ll let you sip the purest ink That e’er you tried to drink of. Your rich _relations_ throng to _them_, While I’m alone and needy; And though I cannot sing, my gem, In tones so rich and reedy. Be sure I’ll make the most of thee! While throned in state and glory, Oh! think what pride alone to be _Unrivaled_ in my story! Oh! fairy treasure, fine and fleet, Oh! subtle, rare creation! Whatever obstacles you meet, Accept my invitation! I’ll give you welcome warm and true, However strange you be; And take what route it pleases you, It’s all the same to me.