"Alexander! do you think I am _afraid_ of Mr. Pope?"

"N-no; but Pope is a blackguard, and very shady, and, it might be
unpleasant for you; and I'd do that, if I were you."

Mrs. Tarbell's spirits rose. "I will do nothing of the sort, Alexander,"
she said; "though it is very kind of you to suggest it; and I will--I
will bet you,"--determinedly,--" I will bet you a copy of the new
edition of Baxter's Digest that I beat him."

THOMAS WHARTON.




A CARCANET.

I give thee, love, a carcanet
With all the rainbow splendor set,
Of diamonds that drink the sun.
Of emeralds that feed upon
His light as doth the evergreen,
A memory of spring between
This frost of whiter pearls than snow,
And warmth of violets below
A wreath of opalescent mist,
Where blooms the tender amethyst.
Here, too, the captives of the mine--
The sapphire and the ruby--shine,