WHEN last I made a visit home,

And stole up stairs, good fortune leading,

I saw, or, rather, thought I saw,

My sister in the study, reading.

With noiseless tread I forward crept,

With schemes of mischief most imprudent;

And leaning o'er the arm-chair's back,

I softly kissed the gentle student.

She turned to fly with burning face,

As if a brother's kiss polluted, -

Rapture! 'T was not my sister Lu,

But Cousin Amy I'd saluted.

Of course I then began to beg

She would excuse my having kissed her;

Protesting that, upon my word,

I really thought it was my sister.

A conversation followed next,

Whose theme, be sure, was not the weather;

And then a very blissful pair

Seated - well, rather close together.

And Amy with her roguish way,

When for the second time I kissed her,

Said, archly looking up to me,

"Are you quite sure it's not your sister?"

DASH.