This was greeted with laughter, clapping of hands, and cries of "Who is it, Huldy?" The Professor looked at Huldy inquiringly, but she averted her eyes. He leaned over and said in an undertone, "May I keep this?" Huldy looked up and said in a tone that was heard by every one at the table, "I don't care; if you like it better than that one about the bumblebee you can have it." The Professor then turned to Quincy and said, "Perhaps Mr. Sawyer will oblige the company by passing his poetry along, as they do it in the city." Quincy answered quickly, "Why, certainly," and handed the slip to his left-hand neighbor, who chanced to be Miss Seraphina Cotton, who was the teacher in the public school located at Mason's Corner. She prided herself on her elocutionary ability, and read the following with great expression: "Though wealth and fame fall to my lot, I'd much prefer a little cot, In which, apart from care and strife, I'd love my children and my wife." Strout laughed outright. "By the way, Mr. Sawyer," said he, "have you seen any little cot round here that you'd swap your Beacon Street house for?" "I've got my eye on some real estate in this town," said Quincy, "and if you own it perhaps we can make a trade." 'Zekiel Pettengill passed his slip to Lindy Putnam; it ran thus: "'An honest man's the noblest work of God,' No nobler lives than he who tills the sod." This was greeted with shouts and cries of "Good for 'Zeke!" while one of Cobb's twins, who possessed a thin, high voice, cried out, "He's all wool and a yard wide." This provoked more shouts and hand-clapping, and 'Zekiel blushed like a peony. Lindy Putnam handed her slip to Quincy; he took in its meaning at a glance and looked at her inquiringly. Strout saw the glance and cried out, "Oh, come, now; don't leave out nothin'; read it jist as it's writ." Lindy nodded to Quincy and he read: "There is no heart but hath some wish unfilled, There is no soul without some longing killed, With heart and soul work for thy heart's desire. And turn not back for storm, nor flood, nor fire." "This is gittin' quite tragic," said Strout. "I guess we've had all we want to eat and drink, and have listened to all the bad poetry we want ter, and I move--" "Second the motion," cried Abner Stiles. "And I move," continued Strout, "that we git back inter the kitchen, and have a little dance jist to shake our suppers down."