all in love with it, and sometimes she sets my
verses to music and sings them to me.

--You have a laugh together sometimes, do you?

--Indeed we do. I write for what they call the "Comic Department" of the
paper now and then. If I did not get so tired of story-telling, I
suppose I should be gayer than I am; but as it is, we two get a little
fun out of my comic pieces. I begin them half-crying sometimes, but
after they are done they amuse me. I don't suppose my comic pieces are
very laughable; at any rate the man who makes a business of writing me
down says the last one I wrote is very melancholy reading, and that if it
was only a little better perhaps some bereaved person might pick out a
line or two that would do to put on a gravestone.

--Well, that is hard, I must confess. Do let me see those lines which
excite such sad emotions.

--Will you read them very good-naturedly? If you will, I will get the
paper that has "Aunt Tabitha." That is the one the fault-finder said
produced such deep depression of feeling. It was written for the "Comic
Department." Perhaps it will make you cry, but it was n't meant to.

--I will finish my report this time with our Scheherezade's poem, hoping
that--any critic who deals with it will treat it with the courtesy due to
all a young lady's literary efforts.

AUNT TABITHA.

Whatever I do, and whatever I say,
Aunt Tabitha tells me that isn't the way;
When she was a girl (forty summers ago)
Aunt Tabitha tells me they never did so.

Dear aunt! If I only would take her advice!
But I like my own way, and I find it so nice!
And besides, I forget half the things I am told;
But they all will come back to me--when I am old.

If a youth passes by, it may happen, no doubt,
He may chance to look in as I chance to look out;
She would never endure an impertinent stare,
It is horrid, she says, and I mustn't sit there.

A walk in the moonlight has pleasures, I own,
But it is n't quite safe to be walking alone;
So I take a lad's arm,--just for safety, you know,
But Aunt Tabitha tells me they didn't do so.

How wicked we are, and how good they were then!
They kept at arm's length those detestable men;
What an era of virtue she lived in!--But stay
Were the men all such rogues in Aunt Tabitha's day?

If the men were so wicked, I'll ask my papa
How he dared t