“I will write. Yes, I will write a poem—I will astonish the world—my talents shall no longer remain under a bushel, but shall go forth like the sword of Gideon to hew down all minor poets! Upon what theme shall I first spend my genius—let me consider,” (drawing the paper still nearer and dipping the golden pen into the flowing liquid,) “gold—the Age of Gold—the Golden Age—yes, ‘The Golden Age’ it shall be. My sublimity shall throw Milton into the shade,” (with a look at the blind bard)—“my glowing pictures of rural life shall startle the lovers of Homer,” (a bow to the god)—“my wit shall cut with the keen sarcasm of Shakspeare,” (looking glorious Will full in the face)—“while the _tout-ensemble_ shall form such a completeness of wisdom, as might honor even the head of a Plato!” (a triumphant glance at the old philosopher.) And thus encouraged, the gold pen capered, and flashed, and flourished from side to side like a mad thing—pointing notes of admiration here, dotting and scratching there, and then diving deep into the sea of ink, plumed its pearly pinion for new and higher flights. For three weeks did the poet bury himself in his library with dead and living authors. And every morning he kissed his pretty May-flower as she tied on her little bonnet: “There, there—go along child; be a good girl and obey the master.” And then as she came to bid him good-night: “There, there; go to bed, child, and don’t forget your lessons.” Not she, bless her! Why she never forgot a single lesson the school-master taught her—she had every word by heart! At length the Golden Age was ready to burst like a blazing star upon this dull coppery world, and was the most sublime thing, in the opinion of its author, that was ever written—and who, pray, could be a better judge! Now Mr. Lillie having some conception of the ignorance of the critics, having once (although it is a great secret,) sent a huge MSS. to the Harpers, which was pronounced “_stuff_”—it might have been very good stuff notwithstanding—resolved that ere he essayed the publishers, he would give his unique poem in all its unfledged beauty to his native village. It was a capital idea. It should be delivered before the Lyceum to an astonished audience. He could then have some faint idea perhaps of the applause which awaited its appearance in 12mo., calf and gilt. One evening he dispatched a hasty note to our young school-master, and requested to see him immediately upon business of a private nature. Heavens how poor Harry trembled as he perused this terrible summons! All was discovered then—Mr. Lillie knew of his presumptuous love, and had sent to banish him forever from the presence of May. And then our little heroine—into what an agony of doubt and apprehension was she thrown, as she read the billet which Harry contrived to slip into her hand.