And our hero, gallant ever,

Let the maiden have her way.

Then his arm her form encircled,

In the sunshine there, unseen,

And his eyes looked down triumphant,

As he whispered, "Philopene,

And the forfeit - 'whatsoever

Suits the victor's heart the best' -

Is yourself, dear, - may I have it?"

Well, - we did n't hear the rest!

But we saw the drooping lashes;

Saw the crimson, burning cheek,

And the happy, joyous blushes

Playing there at hide-and-seek;

And we heard a murmur faintly,

"O, if any one should come!"

Then we knew the worst was over, -

Knew that Dick's campaign was done.

WALLINGFORD.