I WAS thinking of the "Godey;" that it was out I knew,

The month was just beginning, and the papers said so too;

"A charming number," "brilliant," "a treat for ladies all,"

And I wished to see its contents, and read "Fashion" on the fall.

A rainy afternoon it was—not a dashing, roaring rain,

With a trumpet-sounding wind, or a stirring hurricane;

It did not rattle 'gainst the glass a lively, merry chime,

But a dull and dreary drizzle, a stupid, yawning time.

I almost had a mind to venture on the street,

But I do detest the pavements, even when they're clean and neat;

So I thought upon the "Godey," with its fresh and uncut page,

And longed for something pretty, my moments to engage.

It struck me that some pleasant chat would restore a cheerful tone,

And rising with a sigh (for I, musing, sat alone),

I gathered up my sewing and quickly took my way,

Where it always wears an aspect bright, despite a rainy day.

But scarcely had I entered, ere there fell, distinct and clear,

The sound of cutting pages upon my wondering ear;

There sat my quiet brother, this dismal afternoon,

With my number in his hand, as I perceived full soon.

I asked, "Is that 'Littell' you have?" but I knew only too well

The answer which I should receive, that it was not "Littell;"

And had he read my wishes, and offered me the "Book,"

I would not have accepted; but I love the first, fresh look.

So I waited very patiently, and my reward was near;

I saw that he was pleased, though it cost me rather dear;

And when the day was closing, and the rain at last was done,

I enjoyed the precious "Godey," and the glorious setting sun.