Others he gave that were his own, The difference could be quickly known. Though sorry not to have a boy, His daughters were his perfect joy; He plagued them, oft drew tears from each, Was bold and hasty in his speech; All through the house you heard him call, He had his vocatives for all: Patty Patina, Pat became, Lydia took Languish with her name, Philippa was the Gentle Queen, And Phœbe, Madam Proserpine; The pseudonyms for Mary Gwen Varied with every week again; But Emily, of all the set, Emilia called, was most the pet. Soon as her messenger had come, I started from my uncle’s home, On an old pony scrambling down Over the mountain to the town. My cousins met me at the door, And some behind, and some before, Kissed me all round and kissed again, The happy custom there and then, From Patty down to Mary Gwen. Three hours we had, and spent in play About the garden and the hay; We sat upon the half-built stack; And when ’twas time for hurrying back, Slyly away the others hied, And took the ladder from the side; Emily there, alone with me, Was left in close captivity; But down the stack at last I slid, And found the ladder they had hid. I left at six; again I went Soon after and a fortnight spent: Drawing, by Patty I was taught, But could not be to music brought; I showed them how to play at chess, I argued with the governess; I called them stupid; why, to me ’Twas evident as A B C; Were not the reasons such and such? Helston, my schoolfellow, but much My senior, in a yacht came o’er, His uncle with him, from the shore Under Worms-head: to take a sail He pressed them, but could not prevail; Mama was timid, durst not go, Papa was rather gruff with no. Helston no sooner was afloat, We made a party in a boat, And rowed to Sea-Mew Island out, And landed there and roved about: And I and Emily out of reach, Strayed from the rest along the beach. Turning to look into a cave She stood, when suddenly a wave Ran up; I caught her by the frock, And pulled her out, and o’er a rock, So doing, stumbled, rolled, and fell. She knelt down, I remember well, Bid me where I was hurt to tell, And kissed me three times as I lay; But I jumped up and limped away. The next was my departing day. Patty arranged it all with me To send next year to Emily A valentine. I wrote and sent; For the fourteenth it duly went. On the fourteenth what should there be But one from Emily to me; The postmark left it plain to see. Mine, though they praised it at the time, Was but a formal piece of rhyme. She sent me one that she had bought; ’Twas stupid of her, as I thought: Why not have written one? She wrote, However, soon, this little note. ‘Dearest of boys, of course ’twas you; You printed, but your hand I knew, And verses too, how did you learn? I can’t send any in return. Papa declares they are not bad—