I C0_\ ST A N OY... - .„•« -s1ll' The following poem was written by FrecL W. Loring, while he was besieged by the Indians in the Valley .of Death, and is probably the List relic of his jien:Scknx—.4 mountain camp on the Sierra Xevada, U Jack i/Hvtliing-doUtfSy toMoqtriae*:ieatis:eWell. by Jove! Here’e a handkerchief now,Which, in washing my clothes, I find lving near ? Decided!}’ feminine, tool Well, how Could that thing ever have crept in here?Is—a—bcl; what is the other name?By gracious, it must be Isabel King;And I'd forgotten her ! What a thame!She vras really a lovely little thing.Now I remember—how could I forget!The night when that handkerchief I took; nf 11 wonder if- she is married yet,| And if she still keeps that girlish look?We sat on the beach—I believe it was ltye—E’en now I bear how the wUd surf sings— And we were alone—there was nobody by,And I said a great many preposterous things.YId,ofG.ayis-n-heitilAnd I pressed the handkerchief to my heart, And swore to keop it lorever and ever;And—it not being lace—she let it depart, :\.ji And I swore that it should go from me never. And I’ve kept my promise for all these years;Isabel, I am more faithful than you;For, »h«t yon are married, I have toy fears— But, when was a woman known to be true 1*For you have forgotten me quite, aud I Am wringing the suds from your handkerchief, •o. I Which, seems as though it would never: get dry;■ . Ami it is now my assured beliefTint I shall get married when this trip’s through;I thall make the best husband in the world,' Because I'ain ever constant dud true—Witness this ralt; ou the clothes-line curled.l£tl,asofbeOilof30-m-;houl-X3,a 0By Jovo 1 what’s that ? Why Jim, old boy, Wounded, and by a grizaly, you say;Aud you killed him I Good!—that is cause for joy— Put him down here, fellows, this side of the way. Not fatal, but still I think you will find That it is far from fun to bor clawed by a boar.Here,bring us some stuff his *v\‘oiinds to bind; }/ j Stay I , Take that old handkerchief over there!Co 9C51 K