used to goin' up a ladder has his hed steady,
but one as isn't is apt to git giddy and play t'
fool. We ca'an't all be masters, Stumpy, and
't will be a bad job when t' man takes t' masters'
place.'' "But 'tis very hard for us poor folk
now." " Yow look loike it, doant yow?" sez oi.
"Here yow are wi' a good suit o' clothes on,
wi' baccy and money in your pocket, wi' a tidy
little woife and cumfortable home, and yow
want summit else. Oi tell yow wot 't is,
Stumpy, if ever t' day cums that poor folks gits
masters, yow'll foind that t' poor are more cruel
to t' poor than wot t' rich are. Yow and me sees
enuff o' fellars that jump up out o' nothin' to
know wot they are; and if they wos to be uppermost,
we should catch it. Oi'm for lookin' a
little, Stumpy. It ain't sound we want, it's
sense. Whoy, bless ye, a fellar that got t' gift
o' t' gab can make sum folk believe anything;
but oi'm for weighin' wot folk say." "Well,
wouldn't ye ha' a vote if they wor to gi'e it ye?"
"Oi shan't ax 'em for one, for things ain't so
bad as sum people imagine, and we know wot
things is now; but if yow are a going to make a
great change, it's a speccelation. Yuman natur's
a good deal loike water— all t' toime yow can
keep it in wi'in bounds it's roight enuff; but if yow
let it become master, it's deadly. And if yow
are a goin' to gie every man a vote, sum o' t'
wust o' yuman natur' 'll be let loose, and how
are yow goin' to stop it? Doant be led away by
hollar sound, Stumpy. But here cums t' Queen
back again;" and as she passed us we sent such
a shout into her here as would ring there for a
week. We stopped to see t' 'luminations and
fireworks, and they were purty, and then we
went home sober, and glad to ha' seen t'
Queen. And my opinion is, that all on us are
better for t' Queen a cumin' into t' Black
Country.

MINNIE'S MUSINGS.

IN FOUR PARTS. PART I.

He speaks but little when he's here;
   A grave and thoughtful look he wears;
His voice is easy, even, clear;
                        And yet, I think, he loves!

He talks with me, as with the rest;
   Not more with me than them, and yet
I sometimes think he likes it best;
                        I'm almost sure he loves!

But sister Annie's sprightly, gay,
   Her laugh is like the rippling rill;
She's lovely as the flowers in May;
                        Ah, whom is it he loves?

I see him watch her sunny smile,
   I see him note her airy form,
And see his charmed gaze the, while;
                        No wonder if he love!

She's graceful, slender, shapely, tall;
   She's very beautiful and bright;
I'm little, quiet, shy that's all;
                        Not one that he could love!

* * * *

Last evening, in the shrubb'ry walk,
   I saw them, though they saw not me
They pass'd along in low-toned talk,—
                        The very tone of love!

Not many seem'd their words— he deals
   In sparing speech— but smiling, sweet,
Yet earnest; just the words one feels
                        Must be the words of love!

They paused; he took her hand in his;
   A light was in her shining eyes,
A light of sparkling heartfelt bliss;—
                        The light of happy love!

Oh, Annie! Dearest sister mine!
   Thy happiness shall be to me
Instead of that which I resign
                        All thought henceforth of love!

To see thee bless'd shall be my joy;
   For thy dear sake I'll never wed;
For thee my life I will employ
                        In solely sister love!

* * * *

Just now, she came to me in glee,
   In breathless state of ecstasy,
A rapture beautiful to see
                        A rapture of pure love.

"You mouse-like quiet little thing,"
   She said, " how lone you're sitting here!
Do rouse yourself, and come and sing
                        Some ballad of true love.

"He's waiting in the music-room,
   And made me promise I would send
You there to let him know his doom
                        Of hope, or hopeless love."

"Of hope— of love?" I falter'd; stopp'd:
    Then wicked Annie laugh'd, and peep'd
Beneath my tell-tale eyelids, dropp'd
                        In mute revealèd love.

"I guess'd it, dear," she said, with fold
   Of arms about me; " guess, in turn,
How danced my heart when I was told
                        That Walter is in love!

"I guess'd his secret, too, and made
   Him half confess it as we walk'd
Last night beneath the shrubb'ry shade.
                        Dear Minnie, he's in love!"

Another clasp, with cheeks that burn'd,
And then— and then she made me go.
I went: and now I too have learn'd
                        He loves, and whom he loves.

PART II.

MY Walter— he's my husband now—
   My Walter said to me one day,
"I wonder why it is, and how
                        Our Annie does not love.

"So sympathetic, fair withal,
   So cordially affectionate,
I cannot think it natural
                        That Annie should not love.