AT LAST

A dark, tempestuous night; the stars shut in With shrouds of fog; an inky, jet-black blot The firmament; and where the moon has been An hour agone seems like the darkest spot.

The weird wind — furious at its demon game — Rattles one's fancy like a window-frame. A care-worn face peers out into the dark, And childish faces — frightened at the gloom —

Grow awed and vacant as they turn to mark The father's as he passes through the room: The gate latch clatters, and wee baby Bess Whispers, “The doctor's tummin’ now, I dess!”

The father turns; a sharp, swift flash of pain Flits o'er his face: “Amanda, child! I said A moment since — I see I must AGAIN — Go take your little sisters off to bed!

There, Effie, Rose, and CLARA MUSTN'T CRY!” “I ta n't he'p it — I'm fyaid‘ at mama'll die!” What are his feelings, when this man alone Sits in the silence, glaring in the grate

That sobs and sighs on in an undertone As stoical — immovable as Fate, While muffled voices from the sick one's room Come in like heralds of a dreaded doom?

The door-latch jingles: in the doorway stands The doctor, while the draft puffs in a breath — The dead coals leap to life, and clap their hands, The flames flash up. A face as pale as death

Turns slowly — teeth tight clenched, and with a look The doctor, through his specs, reads like a book. “Come, brace up, Major!” — “Let me know the worst!” “W'y you're the biggest fool I ever saw —

Here, Major — take a little brandy first — There! She's a BOY — I mean HE is — hurrah!” “Wake up the other girls — and shout for joy — Eureka is his name — I've found A BOY!”