A Wee Philosopher

As dowii tho path, oae Sabbath morn, I walkod at rapid rate, There Bteppod beHide me hurriedly, Lest sho, too, should be late, From üp to toe as sweet a inaid As careful mother ere arrayed For cnurch on Suaday niorning. A llttlo ppace she trolted on Demurcly at my Bidé - A proper maid for Sabbath morn - Whcn uddenly she spied A luscious tempter in her path ; I heard a jolly crow aud laugli : " JUBt ripe for Sunday mornüig !' A olump of -vihortlobcrries, groen, Save juBt a few in Right, Wblcli, smurter than thcir neighborfl, had Turned blaek within üie night : These bobbod thoir hcads, as if to say, " We'll wager that you've come this way To pick ufi, Sunday inorning I" Too tcmptíng was the prospect for So wee a juaid to licht ; Quick plunged ehe mid the vines, then rose Upronrioua with delifíilt- So merry that ehe heeded not, So hnppy that she quite foiaot TUat it wae Suuday morning. A-sndden paused sho, and her voico Took quite a sober trill ; A penitent in word, ut lcaefc, Khe noffcly npoke- though etül She olutched the berry-branches tight- " I dout suppose it was just right To pick theni Suüday morning !" So very loth wfta she to yield The HiHciouB prize at etake. This little maid was tempted sore A compromiso to make ; And curious, silent listejier. I Hext moiuent heard th' exultant cry : " 111 eat thein Monday morning !" " Perhaps that wont so wicked be"- And carofiüly she etowed % Her booty in a hiding-place, Then hurried down the road, From tip to toe as Bweet a maid As ruüücBS tempter e'er waylaid Bouud churoh-ward, Sunday morning. Tbnt sho could keep her compromiee I doubted very much ; Yet, truly, never all that day Did ahe the berries touch. But, toight and early, once again I eawner tripping down the lane, To eat them, Monday morning.