ds of acres of land.

A friend of his boyhood was Archibald Gray;
And to prove what queer antics Dame Fortune will play
When she sets about trying to plan,
She heaped all her favors on Valentine, bold,
And always left Archibald out of her fold,
The harmless, and weak-minded man.

So, while Valentine reigned like a king on his throne,
Poor Archibald ne'er had a home of his own,
Yet never was known to complain;
Year in and year out, he wandered around,
In mansion and farmhouse a welcome he found
As long as he chose to remain.

The lilacs and snowballs which guarded the door
Of the ivy-decked cottage of good Parson Moore,
Were waking from out their long sleep;
For the last month of winter was hastening by,
The last hours of Valentine's day had drawn nigh,
When Archibald's travel-worn feet

Were heard on the door-step; he entered and smiled,
Then sat down and slept like a play-weary child,
Woke, and told them how long he would stay;
Then slumbered again, while sweet Dorothy Moore,
The motherless daughter, who loved all God's poor,
Made him welcome around the tea-tray.

And archly she said as she gave him his tea,
"Where's the valentine Archy, you promised to me?
All maidens expect one to-day;"
Then forgot it; nor noticed when supper was done,
And her father had gone to his study alone,
That Archie had stolen away.

But, drawing the curtains on darkness and night!
She sat down to spin by the cheery fire-light,
While before it, so cozy and warm,
Slept the kitten,--a snowy white ball of content--
And her wheel, with its humming activity, lent
To the hour, a picturesque charm.

No scene more enchanting could artist dream know,
Than this peaceful, calm spot, in the ruby-red glow
Of the pine knots aflame on the hearth;
But Dorothy thought, "Were he but there with me
And loved me as I love, a desert would be
The happiest place upon earth."

"Oh were he but poor, and forsaken;" she sighed,
"He then a poor maiden might seek for his bride,
But his love will some great lady crown;
Since all is so hopeless, dear Father above
Oh help me to cast out my unreturned love!
And forget the proud Valentine Brown."

In his elegant library, sat Valentine Brown,
The argand burned brightly, the rich curtains down,
Luxurious home of repose;--
Yet his handsome face saddened, his heart was oppressed;
He sighed, and his spirit was full of unrest,
For his l