But Zekel did n't take it so. He jest ducked down an' dodged my blow An' then come back at me so hard, I guess I must 'a' hurt the yard, Er spilet the grass plot where I fell, An' sakes alive it hurt me; well, It would n't be'n so bad, you see, But he jest kep' a-hittin' me. An' I hit back an' kicked an' pawed, But 't seemed 't was mostly air I clawed, While Zekel used his science well A-makin' every motion tell. He punched an' hit, why, goodness lands, Seemed like he had a dozen hands. Well, afterwhile they stopped the fuss, An' some one kindly parted us. All beat an' cuffed an' clawed an' scratched, An' needin' both our faces patched, Each started hum a different way; An' what o' Liza, do you say, Why, Liza--little humbug--dern her, Why, she 'd gone home with Hiram Turner. THE LOVER AND THE MOON A lover whom duty called over the wave, With himself communed: "Will my love be true If left to herself? Had I better not sue Some friend to watch over her, good and grave? But my friend might fail in my need," he said, "And I return to find love dead. Since friendships fade like the flow'rs of June, I will leave her in charge of the stable moon." Then he said to the moon: "O dear old moon, Who for years and years from thy thrown above Hast nurtured and guarded young lovers and love, My heart has but come to its waiting June, And the promise time of the budding vine; Oh, guard thee well this love of mine." And he harked him then while all was still, And the pale moon answered and said, "I will." And he sailed in his ship o'er many seas, And he wandered wide o'er strange far strands: In isles of the south and in Orient lands, Where pestilence lurks in the breath of the breeze. But his star was high, so he braved the main, And sailed him blithely home again; And with joy he bended his footsteps soon To learn of his love from the matron moon. She sat as of yore, in her olden place, Serene as death, in her silver chair. A white rose gleamed in her whiter hair, And the tint of a blush was on her face. At sight of the youth she sadly bowed And hid her face 'neath a gracious cloud. She faltered faint on the night's dim marge, But "How," spoke the youth, "have you kept your charge?" The moon was sad at a trust ill-kept; The blush went out in her blanching cheek, And her voice was timid and low and weak, As she made her plea and sighed and wept. "Oh, another prayed and another plead, And I could n't resist," she answering said; "But love still grows in the hearts of men: Go forth, dear youth, and love again."