A Noble Game of Lawn Tennis. I saw them playing, years ago, A lad and a maiden fair— He with his close-cropped curly head, She with her flying hair ; And the joyous sound of their game went up Through the summer-sunshine air. I spake to the umpire tall and gaunt Who watched them as they strove : “ How goes the game ? ”—Not an instant he From the play his eyes would move— But he answered, with a curious laugh, “ The game as yet is—Love ! ” I came again and stood beside This man who watched the game ; It seemed to me that years had passed— Yet the players were the same ! But the maiden now was a woman grown, And the lad had a man’s broad frame. They were playing in earnest now, those two— I thought, for a heavy bet ; Fighting a silent, earnest fight, With faces flushed and set ; And the man was doing his best to score, But the girl—she held him yet ! But the umpire favoured the man throughout ; It was a bitter shame To hear how he added points to his score And allowed him every claim : And the player sent him at times a wink— I said, “ How stands the game ? ” He held his sides with sudden mirth— “ I call it Deuce up here ; But down at home I’ve a jovial crew ; We call it different there ! Yes, a very different word we use— You may hear it, if you care ? ” The umpire had a curious tone That set me ill at ease : I turned away to cool my brow In the sough of the evening breeze ; But I knew that the girl had missed her stroke, Through the umpire’s well-timed sneeze ! And then I heard her hard, high voice, Speaking recklessly : “ I am tired—let us make an end at last ; This long game wearies me : Let us make it Sudden Death ! ” and the man— “ If you will, so let it be.” I turned in haste to see the close, But the headlong game was done ; The umpire was shaking his man by the hand, But the girl’s fair face was gone ! “ Aha ! ” cried the umpire, slapping his thigh, “ ’Twas a noble stake I won ! ” He passed away through the twilight woods And flourished a glowing prong ; The boughs swept off his cap from his head— Hoo !—but his horns were long ! And a tail straggled out from under his cloak, And trailed as he went along ; And as he went, he capered and sang, Yea, sang this grisly song :— “ Hey for the soul of a maiden fair, ’Tis a noble stake to play ! If she win there is little that she may win ; If she lose, there’s the Devil to pay ! She would play it out ; she trusted her luck, And her play was strong and steady ; But she played for a young man’s hidden heart— Poor fool ! it was Mine already ! Ho ho, ho ho ! Ho ho, ho ho ! The fool ! it was Mine already.” G. L. Stevens.