A FAMILY LIKENESS.

BY ISABELLA FYVIE MAYO.

“I TELL THEM ALL THE HOUSE IS FREE,AND BID THEM MAKE THEMSELVES AT HOME.”

“I TELL THEM ALL THE HOUSE IS FREE,

AND BID THEM MAKE THEMSELVES AT HOME.”

Myparlour is a pleasant place,I love its silence and its shade,’Tis like some sweet, accustomed faceSo dear, it need not fear to fade:And here I sit with folded hands,To welcome John from foreign lands.You see that portrait in the room?My great aunt’s—long ere she was wed.Once, when my mother praised its bloom,John turned to me and softly said(And then at least he thought it true),“A very lovely face—like you!”Don’t blame him. No. I had no wealth:His fortune, too, was all to seek.Though love might enter in by stealth,He thought it was no time to speak.So silently John went away,And now he brings his wife to-day.And there they are! And this is he(I’d know his voice if I were blind!);And in his smiling spouse I seeA gracious beauty, fair and kind,A stately lady—not at allLike yon quaint picture on the wall!And now for all the boys and girlsWho make my old friend’s household bliss;Oh, Johnnie, with the chestnut curls,I’m sorry he’s too old to kiss!—I only say, “How like his father!”And take his hand and press it rather.I tell them all the house is free,And bid them make themselves at home,And so, with peals of laughing glee,About the stairs and rooms they roam:But Johnnie joins not in their rout;He stays with us, and peers about.He sees that portrait on the wall(Still hanging in the same old place);He turns about before us all,And says, “That is a lovely face.”His mother rises up to see;His father smiles, and looks at me.“It ought to be restored,” says he,“It’s piteous how these beauties fade”(Ah, the old dream is safe with me).John has forgotten what he said!Old picture, we’ll forget it too—Come, Johnnie, here’s a seat for you!

Myparlour is a pleasant place,

I love its silence and its shade,

’Tis like some sweet, accustomed face

So dear, it need not fear to fade:

And here I sit with folded hands,

To welcome John from foreign lands.

You see that portrait in the room?My great aunt’s—long ere she was wed.Once, when my mother praised its bloom,John turned to me and softly said(And then at least he thought it true),“A very lovely face—like you!”

You see that portrait in the room?

My great aunt’s—long ere she was wed.

Once, when my mother praised its bloom,

John turned to me and softly said

(And then at least he thought it true),

“A very lovely face—like you!”

Don’t blame him. No. I had no wealth:His fortune, too, was all to seek.Though love might enter in by stealth,He thought it was no time to speak.So silently John went away,And now he brings his wife to-day.

Don’t blame him. No. I had no wealth:

His fortune, too, was all to seek.

Though love might enter in by stealth,

He thought it was no time to speak.

So silently John went away,

And now he brings his wife to-day.

And there they are! And this is he(I’d know his voice if I were blind!);And in his smiling spouse I seeA gracious beauty, fair and kind,A stately lady—not at allLike yon quaint picture on the wall!

And there they are! And this is he

(I’d know his voice if I were blind!);

And in his smiling spouse I see

A gracious beauty, fair and kind,

A stately lady—not at all

Like yon quaint picture on the wall!

And now for all the boys and girlsWho make my old friend’s household bliss;Oh, Johnnie, with the chestnut curls,I’m sorry he’s too old to kiss!—I only say, “How like his father!”And take his hand and press it rather.

And now for all the boys and girls

Who make my old friend’s household bliss;

Oh, Johnnie, with the chestnut curls,

I’m sorry he’s too old to kiss!—

I only say, “How like his father!”

And take his hand and press it rather.

I tell them all the house is free,And bid them make themselves at home,And so, with peals of laughing glee,About the stairs and rooms they roam:But Johnnie joins not in their rout;He stays with us, and peers about.

I tell them all the house is free,

And bid them make themselves at home,

And so, with peals of laughing glee,

About the stairs and rooms they roam:

But Johnnie joins not in their rout;

He stays with us, and peers about.

He sees that portrait on the wall(Still hanging in the same old place);He turns about before us all,And says, “That is a lovely face.”His mother rises up to see;His father smiles, and looks at me.

He sees that portrait on the wall

(Still hanging in the same old place);

He turns about before us all,

And says, “That is a lovely face.”

His mother rises up to see;

His father smiles, and looks at me.

“It ought to be restored,” says he,“It’s piteous how these beauties fade”(Ah, the old dream is safe with me).John has forgotten what he said!Old picture, we’ll forget it too—Come, Johnnie, here’s a seat for you!

“It ought to be restored,” says he,

“It’s piteous how these beauties fade”

(Ah, the old dream is safe with me).

John has forgotten what he said!

Old picture, we’ll forget it too—

Come, Johnnie, here’s a seat for you!

“HE SEES THE PORTRAIT ON THE WALLSTILL HANGING IN THE SAME OLD PLACE.”[Seepage 338.

“HE SEES THE PORTRAIT ON THE WALLSTILL HANGING IN THE SAME OLD PLACE.”

“HE SEES THE PORTRAIT ON THE WALL

STILL HANGING IN THE SAME OLD PLACE.”

[Seepage 338.

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