And fondly giving Bessie a tiny box of bricks;
I remember our long, long parting one autumn afternoon,
And Bessie softly whispering, "Come back and see me soon."
But alas! some wicked fairy was present with us then,
For during the days of childhood we never met again.

Six years went by, and I happened to look at my toys one day.
When I came across a wooden horse with which I used to play,
A little wooden pony I found in the old toy "press,"
That I once had got in a present from dear little brown-eyed Bess
'Mongst the flowers I was dreaming and thinking--Was I ever to see
her more?
When roused by a sound I looked and saw a carriage before the door
I ran right out of the garden and up the wooden stair,
Till I came to my own pink bedroom where I quickly smoothed my hair;
At my heart came a rush of rapture as I hastened to brush my dress
For who was down in the parlor? 'Twas dear little brown-eyed Bess.

Once more does our friendship flourish like the flowers in the
garden-bed,
And a tall young stately maiden is in little Bessie's stead.
When I look at this stately maiden I think of the bright pink moss,
I think of a foaming brooklet with a bridge of stones across;
I think of a waste of heather, a collie pup, and a cat,
In the arms of a rosy baby with a blue straw sun shade hat.
When I look at this stately maiden I cannot a smile suppress.
While I bless in my heart the good old times when I knew her
as little Bess.

JEANIE P. H. SIMPSON