Chapter 89 A SONG.

Walking apart, she thinks none listen;

And now she carols, and now she stops;

And the evening star begins to glisten

Atween the lines of blossoming hops.

Sweetest Mercy, your mother taught you

All uses and cares that to maids belong;

Apt scholar to read and to sew she thought you-

She did not teach you that tender song-

"The