A CHANCE FOR GAIN.

I met him in the busy mart; His eyes are large, his lips are firm, And on his temples, care or sin Has left its claw prints hardened in; His step is nervous and infirm; I wondered if he had a heart.

He blandly smiled and took my hand. He owed me such a debt, he thought, He felt he never could repay; Yet should I call on him that day, He'd hand me what the papers brought, For which I once had made demand.

Then added, turning grave from gay; "But you must promise, if I give, Your lover's office to resign, And stand no more 'twixt me and mine." His words were water in a sieve. I turned my back and strode away.