O ye, whose quick glances are keen as a knife,

In whose presence I stand in a daze,

Who hear the accounts of my folly and strife,

And have records of all my bad ways,

Though fondly I love ye, - yea, madly adore, -


If wise, from your graces I turn;

Like the moth in the flame, if too near I approach,

My wings will most certainly burn!

I had great curiosity to know how this little attention was received; but alas! the next time that I called at the residence of the charmer, I never so much as learned that the missive had been read. In fact, I went away, wishing that I had followed out my own advice, and turned from the awful presence.

My next valentine, however, was more successful, and at least met with an answer. Leaving it on my boots, I headed it