tine speaks,
While the rosy red blushes surmantle her cheeks;
And the joys of requital brings tears to her eye.
Now, Shadrach! my Shadrach! I'm yours till I die.

"The heart that was scornful and cold as a stone,
Rejoices to hear the sweet sound of your name;
Farewell to the miseries and griefs I have had,
But I cannot forget them! dear Shadrach! my Shad!

"Dear Shadrach! my Shadrach! my troubles are o'er,
My name in its fulness you'll whisper no more;
Or your own sweet cognomen will make you feel sad,
For I hold the whip-handle! Oh Shadrach! my Shad!"

Mr. Plaisted read the lines over several times before he comprehended their
meaning, or understood what connection the absurd picture had with them;
but when the whole force of the matter struck him, his rage was
uncontrollable. He crumpled the valentine in his hands and threw it with
all his force towards the fire, but in his anger he aimed too high, and it
struck against the wall and bounced back at him, as if those hateful words
were hurling themselves at him.

"Ha! if I only knew who sent that, I'd--"

Words failed to express the punishment awaiting the author of those
insulting verses. But wait! did he know the handwriting? at thought of
Dexie Sherwood's previous productions coming to his mind. Ah! that last
verse seemed to throw out a hint! He looked at his tormentor closely, and
doubted. That envelope, yes, Gussie must have sent it, for she had spelled
his name "Danuel." He never would have thought that Gussie would be guilty
of such a thing. He would go away on the next train and never look on her
face again. Yes, he would go at once, and forget the whole cursed
stuff--said "cursed stuff" being the affectionate lines which continued to
haunt him after the manner of the mind-destroying craze which Mark Twain
inflicted on a later generation, "Punch, brothers, punch with care;" for as
he walked down the street the words kept time to his feet, the train bells
echoed them, and it was those very words that pealed a warning at the
crossing. So intent were his thoughts on the affectionate lines that he was
oblivious to everything around him, and Mr. Sherwood spoke his name twice
before Plaisted awoke from his reverie.

He felt inclined to refuse the kindly-worded invitation to dinner which Mr.
Sherwood extended to him, but, on second thoughts, accepted it; he would
satisfy himself as to whether Gussie sent the valentine or not. But it took
o