i'rom the líural New ïorker. A younpr wifc stool at the latflcc pne, suv.lv Baúl and " bröwn" Watchlng llic rlr ileM rain,. Steadiij pourlng down - Drlp, drip, dHp, It kept on lts tireless plsr ; Ai' i the ior II ttle, woman sljf h'J, " Alt, me 1 What a weary, wretched ilay." An enpor hand at tiio door; A stop ss o' one In hante, A 1ss on her lip oiict' more, And an ;irni aroUDd iier waist; Tlirob, throb, throb, Wout her llttle heart, íratefnl and gay, A Bhethoaght.wittl a s;iúlí,"WH,a.fterall It isn't so dull a clay I" Forgot was the plasliiiis; rain, And tho lowerlnp sklea hove, Fot. the somber room was ligiuec!' again By the blessed son of love ; " Love, love, love I" Ran the littlc wifc's miirmurM lay ; ' Without, it may threaten aml frovt-n If it ■wiU ; Withln, what a Rolilen iay !"