A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree. _End of Number 2 of THE BEGUILER; or, THE INVALID’S FRIEND_ CXXII VERENA RABY TO EVANGELINE BARRANCE MY DEAR EDITOR,—Having read your second number I feel so much better that I am confident—to my distress—that a third will not be needed. And yet I should so much like to read many more. I have been moved to become a poet myself and write you a testimonial. After hours of thought in the watches of the night I produced this couplet, which even though it is not worthy to stand beside Pansy’s historical ballads is sincere:— There was once a successful _Beguiler_ Which turned a sad dame to a smiler. You are at liberty to quote these lines in all your advertisements,—I am, yours sincerely, CONSTANT READER CXXIII VERENA RABY TO RICHARD HAVEN DEAR RICHARD,—I am rather upset by a piece of news this morning. Dr. Ferguson came in to say that he is going away next week for a month’s holiday, and I can quite believe that he needs one, for I alone must have been a great source of anxiety to him—but it was rather a shock. He went on to say that he has found a very good _locum_; but none the less I am terrified. I can’t bear the thought of a stranger. Forgive this peevishness, but I am so tired of being helpless.—Yours, V. CXXIV NESTA ROSSITER TO RICHARD HAVEN DEAR “UNCLE,”—Aunt Verena has got it into her head that the _locum_ who is coming next week to take Dr. Ferguson’s place will not understand her case and she is working herself into a fret over it. Dr. Ferguson assures me that he wouldn’t allow anyone to take his place who is not qualified in every way, and he says too that Aunt Verena ought for every reason to be placid. Do please write to her to help soothe her down again.—Yours sincerely, NESTA CXXV RICHARD HAVEN TO VERENA RABY DEAREST VERENA, I quite understand your nervousness about this new doctor, but I think you should be more of a gambler over it all. You should be more trustful of your star, which, though it (to my mind, very reprehensively), allowed you to have a horrid fall, has made things as comfortable as possible since. Until I hear to the contrary I intend to think of the new doctor as a godsend, and a very agreeable change to old Ferguson, who struck me as a prosy dog. Be an optimist, my dear.