Patience Thompson!--I think that name Must 'a' come from a power above, Fer it seemed to fit her jest the same As a GAITER would, er a fine kid glove! And to see that girl, with all the care Of the household on her--I de-clare It was OUDACIOUS, the work she'd do, And the thousand plans that she'd putt through; And sing like a medder-lark all day long, And drowned her cares in the joys o' song; And LAUGH sometimes tel the farmer's "hand," Away fur off in the fields, would stand A-listenin', with the plow half drawn, Tel the coaxin' echoes called him on; And the furries seemed, in his dreamy eyes, Like foot-paths a-leadin' to Paradise, As off through the hazy atmosphere The call fer dinner reached his ear. Now LOVE'S as cunnin'a little thing As a hummin'-bird upon the wing, And as liable to poke his nose Jest where folks would least suppose,-- And more'n likely build his nest Right in the heart you'd leave unguessed, And live and thrive at your expense-- At least, that's MY experience. And old Jeff Thompson often thought, In his se'fish way, that the quiet John Was a stiddy chap, as a farm-hand OUGHT To always be,--fer the airliest dawn Found John busy--and "EASY," too, Whenever his wages would fall due!-- To sum him up with a final touch, He EAT so little and WORKED so much, That old Jeff laughed to hisse'f and said, "He makes ME money and airns his bread!-- But John, fer all of his quietude, Would sometimes drap a word er so That none but PATIENCE understood, And none but her was MEANT to know!-- Maybe at meal-times John would say, As the sugar-bowl come down his way, "Thanky, no; MY coffee's sweet Enough fer ME!" with sich conceit, SHE'D know at once, without no doubt, HE meant because she poured it out; And smile and blush, and all sich stuff, And ast ef it was "STRONG enough?" And git the answer, neat and trim, "It COULDN'T be too 'strong' fer HIM!" And so things went fer 'bout a year, Tel John, at last, found pluck to go And pour his tale in the old man's ear-- And ef it had been HOT LEAD, I know It couldn't 'a' raised a louder fuss, Ner 'a' riled the old man's temper wuss! He jest LIT in, and cussed and swore, And lunged and rared, and ripped and tore, And told John jest to leave his door, And not to darken it no more! But Patience cried, with eyes all wet, "Remember, John, and don't ferget, WHATEVER comes, I love you yet!" But the old man thought, in his se'fish way, "I'll see her married rich some day; And THAT," thinks he, "is money fer ME-- And my will's LAW, as it ought to be!"