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LOVE AND CHECKERS.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

WHERE the crimson glow of sunset

Rested on a cottage fair,

And the gently wafted zephyrs

Breathed a whispered angel-prayer,

Underneath the emerald woodbine,

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In a cool, refreshing bower,

Dick and Jennie sat together,

Playing checkers all the hour.

But the auburn lashes slender

E'er concealed her laughing eyes,

And whene'er his hand would wander

Nearer, then a blush would rise;

And 't was certain something other

Than the checkers moved the twain,

And their movements plain betokened

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