rest;
The maid that I do like the best.
Vor where her vaice is gay
An' where her smiles do play,
There's always jay vor ev'ry breast.

Vor zome vo'k out abroad ha' me'th,
But nwone at hwome bezide the he'th;
An' zome ha' smiles vor strangers' view;
An' frowns vor kith an' kin to rue;
But her sweet vaice do vall,
Wi' kindly words to all,
Both big an' small, the whole day drough.

An' when the evenen sky wer peaele,
We heaerd the warblen nightengeaele,
A-drawen out his lwonesome zong,
In winden music down the drong;
An' Jenny vrom her he'th,
Come out, though not in me'th,
But held her breath, to hear his zong.

Then, while the bird wi' oben bill
Did warble on, her vaice wer still;
An' as she stood avore me, bound
In stillness to the flow'ry mound,
"The bird's a jay to zome,"
I thought, "but when he's dum,
Her vaice will come, wi' sweeter sound."

MINDEN HOUSE.

'Twer when the vo'k wer out to hawl
A vield o' hay a day in June,
An' when the zun begun to vall
Toward the west in afternoon,
Woone only wer a-left behind
To bide indoors, at hwome, an' mind
The house, an' answer vo'k avore
The geaete or door,--young Fanny Deaene.

The air 'ithin the geaerden wall
Wer deadly still, unless the bee
Did hummy by, or in the hall
The clock did ring a-hetten dree,
An' there, wi' busy hands, inside
The iron ceaesement, oben'd wide,
Did zit an' pull wi' nimble twitch
Her tiny stitch, young Fanny Deaene.

As there she zot she heaerd two blows
A-knock'd upon the rumblen door,
An' laid azide her work, an' rose,
An' walk'd out feaeir, athirt the vloor;
An' there, a-holden in his hand
His bridled meaere, a youth did stand,
An' mildly twold his neaeme and pleaece
Avore the feaece o' Fanny Deaene.

He twold her that he had on hand
Zome business on his father's zide,
But what she didden understand;
An' zoo she ax'd en if he'd ride
Out where her father mid be vound,
Bezide the plow, in Cowslip Ground;
An' there he went, but left his mind
Back there behind, wi' Fanny Deaene.

An' oh! his hwomeward road wer gay
In air a-blowen, whiff by whiff,
While sheenen water-weaeves did play
An' boughs did sway above the cliff;
Vor Time had now a-show'd en dim
The jay it had in store vor him;
An' when he went thik road ageaen
His errand then wer Fanny Deaene.

How strangely things be