Soon sped the letter—thanks to modern plans,
Our English mails run little in the style
Of those great German wild-beast caravans,
Eil-wagons—tho’ they do not “go like ile,”—
But take a good twelve minutes to the mile—
On Monday morning, just at ten o’clock,
As Ellen humm’d “The young May Moon” the while,
Her ear was startled by that double knock
Which thrills the nerves like an electric s............