ppin' his brow ('cos 'twas a trifle sweaty)
With a blue kerchief--lo, he spies a white 'un
Coyly responding.

Oh, delightsome Love! Not a jot do _you_ care
For the restrictions set on human inter-
-course by cold-blooded social refiners;
Nor do I, neither.

Day by day, peepin' fro' behind the bean-sticks,
Willum observed that scrap o' white a-wavin',
Till his hot sighs out-growin' all repression
Busted his weskit.

Lady Jane's guardian was a haughty Peer, who
Clung to old creeds and had a nasty temper;
Can we blame Willum that he hardly cared to
Risk a refusal?

Year by year found him busy 'mid the bean-sticks,
Wholly uncertain how on earth to take steps.
Thus for eighteen years he beheld the maiden
Wave fro' her window.

But the nineteenth spring, i' the Castle post-bag,
Came by book-post Bill's catalogue o' seedlings
Mark'd wi' blue ink at 'Paragraphs relatin'
Mainly to Pumpkins.'

'W. A. can,' so the Lady Jane read,
'Strongly commend that very noble Gourd, the
_Lady Jane_, first-class medal, ornamental;
Grows to a great height.'

Scarce a year arter, by the scented hedgerows--
Down the mown hill-side, fro' the castle gateway--
Came a long train and, i' the midst, a black bier,
Easily shouldered.

'Whose is yon corse that, thus adorned wi' gourd-leaves,
Forth ye bear with slow step?' A mourner answer'd,
''Tis the poor clay-cold body Lady Jane grew
Tired to abide in.'

'Delve my grave quick, then, for I die to-morrow.
Delve it one furlong fro' the kidney bean-sticks,
Where I may dream she's goin' on precisely
As she was used to.'

Hardly died Bill when, fro' the Lady Jane's grave,
Crept to his white death-bed a lovely pumpkin:
Climb'd the house wall and over-arched his head wi'
Billowy verdure.

Simple this tale!--but delicately perfumed
As the sweet roadside honeysuckle. That's why,
Difficult though its metre was to tackle,
I'm glad I wrote it.

A TRIOLET.

To commemorate the virtue of Homoeopathy in restorin