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» ^i^isii*l» ay ■« «-lc) V • 1 " ° 4?-n^ 1»-^' ■'>" .4Va'' \ ./ Z^'*: ' <^°^ v-^^ ^' .-^^% .4^^ •- **..** :Mjk. %,/ .• Jfe'-. **..** -•;«»'. **-„/ .-'Jite-v %.** :M/i;. \. oV ^•iq* la O* i."^ .i^^-n*. /.^^l'^ /y:^^% /.'J^'% >^\c:^.^t "^^^'*^\/ %.'^^%0^ "V^'i^\/ '°^^-.- »" ^^ -OK.^V -^ %. .^^ /^;:>- ./\>;^A. .>°/^a^'>- ./*:^^^\ / X'^^V' V'^'V'' "V^^V^ X'^PV^"" ""o^ '^f^-^'^o'^ ■>^,^*: V9-/ \ r \^ i&-~^ . \ #!^v ^:? FlfANCfS OAY COP''H<&H': '8^1 OY iftLOtfilCW * STOUC:. POINT LACE AND DIAMONDS By GEORGE A. BAKER, Jr. AUTHOR OF " THK BAD HABITS OF GOOD SOCIETY" " WEST POINTS ETC. With twelve facsimiles of water-color paintings by ERANCIS DAY Together with illustrations in black-aiid-white by various artists NEW YORK FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY MDCCCXCIl x'^ -\ \ Copyright, 1S91, By Frederick A. S/o/ccs Company, New York. POKTRAIT OK FraNCIS DaY. .1/ •* *J- ^' CONTENTS. An Idyl of the Pkriod . Retrospection- .... A Piece of Advk k A Refor.mer ...... Ix the Recorij Roo.m, Sukkog.aie's Okkic De Lunatico After the Ger.man' .... A Rosebud in Lent .... Pro Patria et Gloria .... A Song Making Xkw Year's Calls Fishing Jack and Me Les Enfants Perdl'S .... Frost-Bitten Christmas Greens .... Chinese Lanterns ..... Thoughts on the Co.mmand.ments Eight Hours Old Photographs Marriage a la Mode. A Trilogy. • 7 8 ■ '3 14 ■ "5 ■5 . i6 '9 29 30 35 36 37 38 41 42 <"'. COXTKNTS. The " Stav-at-IIomk's" Plaint Sleeping Beauty . . . . Easter Morning .... The " Stav-at-Home's" P.kan . A Song " Le Dernier J(iur d in Conda.mne' Pyrotechnic Polyglot A Legend of St. Valentine . Matinal Musings .... An Afterthought . . . . The Mothers of the Sirens A Ro.MANCE OF THE SaWDUST . Nocturne Lake Mahopac — Saturday Night . Auto-da-Fe ZwEi Konige avf Orkada!. Chiyalrie Reductio ad Absurdu.m . Per Aspera ad Astra . The Language of Love . PAGE 49 ■ 5° 51 • 55 56 • 57 58 . 61 62 . fu 67 . 67 69 • 73 74 . 76 79 • 79 So . 82 ■^^ Point Lace and Diamonds. AN IDYL OF THE PERIOD. IN TWO I'ARTS. PART ONE. "Come right in. How are you, Fred? Find a chair, and get a light." "Well, old man, recovered yet From the Mather's jam last night? " " Didn't dance. The German's old.' " Didn't you? I had to lead — Awful bore: Did you go home? " " No. Sat out with Molly Meade. Jolly little girl she is — Said she didn't care to dance, 'D rather sit and talk to me — Then she gave me such a glance ! So, when you had cleared the room, And impounded all the chairs. Having nowhere else, we two Took possession of the stairs. I was on the lower step, Molly, on the next above, Gave me her bouquet to hold. Asked me to undo her glove. Then, of course, I squeezed her hand, Talked about my wasted life ; 'Ah! if I could only win Some true woman for my wife. How I'd love her — work for her! Hand in hand through life we'd walk- No one ever cared for me — ' Takes a girl — that kind of talk. Then, you know, I used my eyes — She believed me, every word — Said I 'mustn't talk so' — Jove! Such a voice you never heard. Gave me some symbolic flower, — ' Had a meaning, oh, so sweet, ' — r Pf)INT LACE AND DIAMONDS. i Don't know where it is, I'm sure; Must have dropped it in the street. How I spooned I — And she — ha! ha I — Well, I know it wasn't right — Rut she pitied me so much That I — kl.ssed her — pass a light." PART TWO. "Moll)- Meade, well, I declare! Who'd have thought of seeing you, After what occurred last night, Out here on the Avenue! Oh, you awful ! awful girl '. There, don't blush, I saw it all." "vSaw all what?" "Ahem! last iiight- At the Mather's — in the hall." "Oh, you horrid — where were you? Wasn't he the biggest goose! Most men must be cauj^ht, but he Ran his own neck in the noose. I was almost dead to dance, I'd have done it if I could. But old Grey said I must stop, And I promised Ma I would. So I looked up sweet, and said That I'd rather talk to him; Hope he didn't see me laugh. Luckily the lights were dim. My, how he did squeeze my hand! And he looked up in my face W^ith his lovely big brown eyes — Really, it's a dreadful case. 'Earnest!' — I should think he was! Why, I thought I'd have to laugh When he kissed a flower he to(jk, Looking, oh! like such a calf. I suppose he's got it now, In a wnne-glass on his shelves; It's a mystery to me Why men ^iv'// deceive themselves. 'Saw him kiss me! ' — Oh, you wretch ; Well, he begged so hard for one — And I thought there'd no one know — So I — let him, just for fun. I know it really wasn't right To trifle with his feelings, dear, But men a/r such stuck-up things; He'll recover — never fear." RETROSPECTION. I'd wandered, for a week or more, Through hills, and dells, and doleful green 'ry, Lodging at any carnal door. Sustaining life on pork, and scenery. A w-eary scribe, I'd just let slip My collar, for a short vacation. And started on a walking trip. That cheapest form of dissipation — And vilest, oh! confess my pen, That I, prosaic, rather hate your "Ode to a Sky-lark" sort of men; I really am not fond of Nature. Mad longing for a decent meal And decent clothing overcame me; There came a blister on my heel — I gave it up; and who can blame me? KETKOSPECTIOX. ^f'^^' - X "I OWE IT UP. AND WHO CAN BI.AMK ME'" Tlicn wrote my " Pulse of Nature's Heart, Whieh 1 procured some little cash on, And quickly packed me to depart In search of "gilded haunts" of fash- ion, Whieh I mii;-ht puff at ecjlumn rates, To please my host and meet my reckoning; " Base is the slave who " — hesitates When wealth and pleasure both are beckon in J/-, I sought ; I found. Among the swells I had my share of small successes, ^lade languid love to languid belles And penri'd descriptions of their dresses. Ah I Millionairess Millicent, How fair you were! How you adored me! 'Ah. Millionairess Millicent. how fair you were! lO POINT LACK AND DIAMONDS. How man)' tender hours we spent — Refracted by the frolic glass And, oh, beloved, how you bored me I Of Fancy, play with change incessant? APRU,. IS7I. JL;M.;, ,874. Is not that fragmentar_v bit Of my )-oung verse a perfect prism. Where worldly knowledge, pleasant wit, True humor, kindly cynicism, Aicust, 1S86, Great Caesar I "What a sweet young ass I must have been, when adolescent! "WHAT! GIVE UP FLIRTATION? CHANGE DIMPLES FOR FROWNS?" Painted by Francis Day. F R A tN c.t s O AY ^ A PIECE OF ADVICE. So you're going to give up flirtation, my What! Give up flirtation? Change dim- dear, pies for frowns? And lead alife sober and quiet? Why, Nell, what's the use? You're so pretty, There, there, I don't doubt the intention's That your beauty all sense of your wicked- sincere, ness drowns. "The mischief your eyes have been making!' But wait till occasion shall try it. — Is Ramsay engaged? Now, don't look enraged! You like him, I know — don't deny it! When, some time, in country or city, Your fate comes at last. We'll forgive all the past. And think of you only with pity. 14 POINT LACK AM) DIAMnxDS. Irdeed I — so " you feel for the woes of my sex! " 'The legions of hearts ycni've been breaking Yonr conscience affright, and your reckon- ing peq)lex Whene'er an accoinit you've been tak- ing!" " I'd scarcely believe How deeply you grieve At the mischief your eyes have been making! " Xow, Nellie! — Flirtation's the leaven of life; It lightens its doughy compactness. Don't always — the world with deception is rife — Construe what men say with exactness ! I pity the girl, In society's whirl, Who's troubled with matter-of-factness. A pink is a beautiful flower in its way. But rosebuds and violets are charming, ^len don't wear the same Iwiitoiiniire every day, Taste changes. — Flirtation alarming! If e'er we complain. You then may refrain, Your eyes of their arrows disarming. Ah, Nellie, be sensible. Pr'ythee.give heed To counsel a victim advances ; Your eyes, I acknowledge, will make our hearts bleed, Pierced through by love's magical lances. But better that fate Than in darkness to wait. Unsought by your mischievous glances. A REFORMER. You call me trifler, faineant. And bid me give my life an aim! — You're most unjust, dear. Hear me out, And own your hastiness to blame. I live with but a single thought; My inmost heart and soul are set On one sole task — a mighty one — To simplify our alphabet. Five vowel sounds we use in speech ; They're A, and E, I, O, and U: I mean to cut them down to four. You "wonder what good that will do! Why, tliis cold earth will bloom again, Eden itself be half re-won. When breaks the dawn of my success And U and I at last are one. IN THE RECORD ROOM, SURROGATES OFFICE. A TiiMi: where lejjal ghouls yrow fat; Where buried papers, fold on fold, Crumble to dust, that 'thwart the sun Floats dim, a pallid ghost of gold. The day is dying. All about. Dark, threat'ning shadows lurk; but still I ponder o'er a dead girl's name Fast fading from a dead man's will. Katrina Harland, fair and sweet. Sole heiress of your father's land. Full many a gallant wooer rode To snare your heart, to win your hand. And one, perchance — who loved you best. Feared men might sneer — "besought her gold " — And never spoke, but turned away. Stubborn and proud, to call you cold. Cold ? Would I knew 1 Perliaps you loved, And mourned him all a virgin life. Perhaps forgot his ver\- name As happy mother, happy wife. Unanswered, sad, I turn away — "You loved her first, then?" First — well — no — You little goose, the Harland will Was proved full sixty years ago. But Katrine's lands to-day are known To lawyers as the Glass House tract; Who were her heirs, no record shows ; The title's bad, in point of fact. If she left children, at her death, I've been retained to clear the title; And all the questions, raised above, Are, you'll perceive, extremely vital. DE LUNATICO. The squadrons of the sun still hold The western hills, their armor glances, Their crimson banners wide unfold. Low-levelled lie their golden lances. The shadows lurk along the shore. Where, as our row-boat lightly passes, The ripples, startled by our oar. Hide murmuring 'neath the hanging grasses. Your eyes are downcast, for the light Is lingering on your lids — forgetting How late it is — for one last sight Of you the sun delays his setting. 'Th HE shadows! f.r- URK ALONG I '. HE SHORE.' «1 . 16 I'OINT l.ACl-; AMI DIA.NKJMIS. One hand droops idly from the boat, And round the white and swaying;- fini,^ers, Like half-blown lilies yone afloat, The ainorons water, toyini^', lin^-ers. I see you smile liehind vour book, Your gentle eyes eoneealiny, nnder Their drooping- lids a laughing look That's partly fun, and partly wonder That I, a man of presence grave. Who fight for bread 'neath Themis' l)anner vShonld all at once begin to rave In this — I trust — Aldrichian manner. They say our lake is — sad, but true — The mill-pond of a Yankee village, Its swelling shores devoted to The various forms of kitchen tillage ; That you're no more a maiden fair. And I no lover, young and glowing; Just an old, sober, married nair, Who, after tea, have gone out rowing. Ah, dear, when memories, old and sweet. Have fooled m_v reason thus, believe me. Your eyes can only help the cheat. Your smile more thoroughly deceive me. I think it well that men, dear wife, Are sometimes with such madness smitten, Klse little joy would be in life, And little poetr\' be written. AFTER THE GERMAN. A SOPHO.MORE SOLILOQUY. Blackboard, with ruler and rubber before When fairy musicians are playing the me, "Mabel," Chalk loosely held in my hand. And waltzes each nerve in ni}- lirain! Sun-gilded motes in the air all around me. Listlessly dreaming I stand. That only last night sparkled there. What do I care for the problem I've By the galop's wild whirl shower'd down written on my shoulder In characters gracefully slight. From turbulent tresses of hair. As the festal -robed beauties whose fairy On my coat's powdered chalk, not the dust of the diamond feet flitted Through the maze of the German last night! What do I care for the lever of friction, For sine, or co-ordinate plane In my car is the clatter of chalk against blackboard. Not music's voluptuous swell ; Alas I this is life, — so pass mortal plea.snres. And, — thank goodness, there goes the bell' "SEE HER AT PRAYER. HER PLEADING HANDS BEAR NOT ONE GEM OF ALL HER STORE." Painted bv Francis Da v. Lif fHLZiLH.Zr, A SIO/- A ROSEBUD m LF.NT. You saw her last, the ball-room's belle, A soiifflf, lace and roses blent ; Your worldly worship moved her then ; She does not know von now, in Lent. Turn, turn away! But carry hence The lesson she has dumbly taught — That briufht yoimg creature kneeling there With every feeling, every thought r- 1 "YOU SAW HKK LAST, THE BAU,-R00M'S BELLE.' See her at praj-er! Her pleading hands Bear not one gem of all her store. Her face is saint-like. Be rebuked By those pure eyes, and gaze no more. Absorbed in high and holy dreams Of — new Spring dresses, truth to say To them the time is sanctified From Shrove-tide until Easter day. PRO PATRIA ET GLORIA. TnK Hi,dits blaze hioh in our brilliant rooms ; Fair arc the maidens who throng our halls ; Soft, through the warm and perfumed air, The languid music swells and falls. The " Seventh" dances and flirts to-night — All we are fit for, so they say, We fops and weaklings, who masquerade As soldiers, sometimes, in black and gray. We can manage to make a street parade. But, in a fight, we'd be sure to run. Defend you! pshaw, the thought's absurd! How about April, sixty-one? What was it made your dull blood thrill? Why did you cheer, and weep, and pray ? Why did each pulse of your hearts mark time To the tramp of the boys in black and gray ? You've not forgotten the nation's call When down in the South the war-cloud burst ; " Troops for the front I" 1 )o you ever think Who answered, and marched, and got there first 1 Whose bayonets first scared Maryland? Whtjse were the colors that showed the way ? Who .set the .step for the marching North? S(ime holiday soldiers in black and gray. " Pretty boys in their pretty suits I " " Too pretty by far to take imder fire I " A pretty boy in a pretty suit Lay once in Bethel's bloody mire. The first to fall in the war's first fight — Raise him tenderly. Wash awa}- The blood and mire from the pretty suit ; For Winthrop died in the black and gray. In the shameftil days in sixty-three. When the city fluttered in abject fear, 'Neath the mob's rude grasp, who ever thought — "God I if the Seventh were only here I" Our drums were heard — the ruffian crew Grew tired of riot the self-same day — By chance of course — you don't suppose They feared the dandies in black and gray ! So we dance and flirt in our listless style While the waltzes dream in the drill- room arch. PRO PATRIA ET GLORIA. 2 1 What would we do if the order came, Sudden and sharp — " Let the vSeventh march! " Why, we"d faint, of course; our cheeks would pale Our knees would tremble, our fears — but stay That order I think has come ere this To those holiday troops in black and gray. "What would we do!" We'd drown our drums In a storm of cheers, and the drill-room floor Would ring with rifles. Why, you fools. We'd do as we've always done before! Do our duty ! Take what comes With laugh and je.st, be it feast or fray — ■ But we're dandies — yes, for we'd rather die Than sully the pride of our black and gray. A SONG. I sHdri.nx'T like to say, I'm sure, I shouldn't like to say, Why I think of you more, and more, and more As day flits after day. Nor why I see in the summer skies Only the beauty of y(nu- sweet eyes. The power by which you swa}- A kingdom of hearts, that little you prize — T shouldn't like to say. I shouldn't like to say, I'm sure, I shouldn't like to say Why I hear your voice, so fre.sh and piire. In the dash of the laughing spray. Nor why the wavelets that all the while. In many a diamond-glittering file, With truant sunbeams play. .Should make me remember your rippling smile — I shouldn't like to say. I shouldn't like to say, I'm sure, I shouldn't like to say, Why all the birds sliould chirp of you, Who live so far away. Robin and oriole sing to me From the leafy depths of our apple- tree, With trunk so gnarled and gray — But why your name should their burden be I shouldn't like to say. MAKING NEW YEAR'S GALLS. Shixino patent-leather. Tie of spotless white; Through the muddy weather Rushing 'round till night. Gutters all o'erflowing, Like Niagara Falls; Bless me! this is pleasant. Making New Year's calls. Rushing up the door-step, Ringing at the bell — " Mrs. Jones receive to-day?" "Yes, sir." "\'ery well." .Sending in your pasteboard. Waiting in the halls. Bless me! this is pleasant. ^Making New Year's calls. Skipping in the parlor. Bowing to the floor. Lady of the house there Half a dozen more ; Ladies" dresses gorgeous, I'aniers, waterfalls, — Bless me! this is plea.sant, Makintr New Year's calls. MARINd NEW YEAR S CALLS. 23 " Wish you Happy New Year " — • " Many thanks, I'm sure." " Many calls, as usual?" "No; I think they're fewer." Staring at the carpet, Gazing at the walls; Bless me! this is pleasant, Making Xew Year's calls. " Really, I must go now. Wish I had more leisure." " Wont you have a glass of wine? " " Ah, thanks ! — greatest pleasure. " Try to come the graceful. Till yuuv wine-glass falls; Bless me I this is pleasant. Making New Year's calls. Hostess looks delighted — Out of doors you rush ; Sit down at the crossing, In a sea of slush. Job here for your tailor — Hcrr Von Schneiderthals — Bless me ! this is pleasant. Making New Year's calls. Pick yourself up slowly, Heart with anguish torn ; Sunday-go-to-meetings In a state forlorn. Kick a gibing boot-black. Gibing boot-black bawls. Bless niel this is pleasant, JIaking New Year's calls. Home, and woo the downy. But your soul doth quake. At most fearful night-marcs — Turkey, oysters, cake. While each leaden horror That your rest appalls. Cries, "Dear heart! how pleasant. Making New Year's calls." "READING? YF.S, BUT NOT FROM A NOVFX. FISHING! TRULY, BUT NOT WITH A ROD." Painted bv Francis Daw mJiir.. f « FISHING. Over the mosses, gray and green. n " H.^RRv, where have you been all morn- It causes his words to be softly spoken, ing? " With many a lingering jDaiise between, "Down at the pool in the meadow- The while the sunbeam, chase the shad- brook." ows "Fishing?" "Yes, but the trout were wary. Couldn't induce them to take a hook. " "Why, look at your coat! You must have fallen. Your back's just covered with leaves and moss." How he laughs! Good-natured fellow I Fisherman's luck makes most men cross. " Nellie, the Wrights have called. Where were you? " " Under the tree, by the meadow-brook, Reading, and oh, it was too lovely; I never saw such a charming book." The charming book must have pleased her, truly, There's a happy light in her bright young eyes, And she hugs the cat with unusual fervor To staid old Tabby's intense surprise. Reading? j-es, but not from a novel. Fishing! truly, but not with a rod. The line is idle, the book neglected — The water-grasses whisper and nod. The fi.sherman bold and the earnest reader Sit talking — of what ? Perhaps the weather. Perhaps — no matter — whate'er the subject, It brings them remarkably close to- gether. 'The fairest prize ever brought from a morning's fishing." Blushes are needful for its discussion, And soft, shy glances from downca.st eyes. In whose blue depths are lying hidden Loving gladness, and sweet surprise. 28 I'OINT LACIi AM) DIAMONDS. Trinil}- Chaj)!.'! is sray this evcninj;', The rinj,^ is on, the vows are spoken, l-'illed with beauty, and flowers, and And sniilini^- friends, '^nnd fortune li(;-ht, wishing-, A cajHivc fisherman stands at the altar. Tell liim his is the fairest prize With Nellie beside him all in white. Ever brought from a morning's fishing. lACK AND MK. Shine! — All right; here y'are, boss! Do it for jest five eents. Get 'em fixed in a minute, — That is, 'f nothing perwents. Set your foot right there, sir. Morniii's kinder eold, — Goes right through a feller, When his coat's a-gittin' old. Well, yes, — eall it a eoat, sir. Though 'taint much more'n a tear; (iit another! — I can't, bo.ss; Aint got the stamps to spare. " Make as much as most on 'em !" Yes ; but then, yer see, They've only got one to do for, — There's two on us. Jack and me. Him?— Why, that little feller With a curus lookin' back, vSittin' there on the gratin', Warmin' hisself, — that's Jack. Used to go round sellin' papers, The cars there was his lay ; But he got shoved off of the platform Under the wheels, one dav. Fact, — the conductor did it, — Gin him a reg'lar throw, — He didn't care if he killed him; Some on 'em is just .so. He's never been all right since, sir, Sorter quiet and queer; Him and me goes together, He's what they call cashier. Style, that 'ere, for a boot-black, — Made the fellers laugh; Jack and me had to take it. But we don't mind no chaff. Trouble! — not much, you bet, boss' Sometimes, when biz is slack, I don't know how I'd manage If 't wa'n't for little Jack. You jest once orter hear him: He says we needn't care How rough luck is down here, sir. If s(mie day we git up there. All clone now, — how's that, sir? Shines like a pair of lamps. Mornin' ! — Give it to Jack, sir, He looks after the stamps. LES ENFANTS PERDUS. What has become of the children all ? How have the clarlin;^'s vanished ? Fashion's pied piper, with ma.t;ical air, Has wooed them away, witli their flaxen hair And lauyhintf eyes, we don't know where. And no one can tell where they're ban- ished. "Where are the children?" cries Madam Haut-ton, "Allow me, my sons and dans^hters, — Fetch them, Annette!" What, madam, those? Children! such exquisite belles and beaux: True, tliey're in somewhat shorter clothes Than the most of Dame Fashion's sup- porters. Good day. Master Eddy! Young man about town, — A merchant down in the swamp's son ; In a neat little book he makes neat little bets ; He doesn't believe in the shop cijjarettes. But does his own rolling, — and has for his pets Miss Markham and Lydia Thompson. He and his comrades can drink champagne Like so many juvenile Comuses; If you want to insult him, just talk of boys' play, — Why, even on billiards he's almost bhue. Drops in at Delmonico's three times a daj', And is known at Jerry Thomas's. And here comes Miss Agnes. Good morn- ing I " Bon jour .' " Xow, isn't that vision alarming? Silk with panier, and puffs, and lace Decking a figure of corsetted grace; Her words are minced, and her spoiled yoimg face Wears a simper far from charming. Thirteen only a month ago, — Notice her conversation : Fashion — that bonnet of Nellie Perroy'.s — And now, in a low, confidential voice, I'OINT I.All', AMI niAMiiNUS. Of Helena's treatment of Tommy Joyce— Folly fillingf each curly head, Aged twelve — that's the last flirtation. Premature vices, childhood dead, 'That ronnkt of Nf.i.i.ie Pl'rroy's." What has become of the children, then? How can an answer be ^;iven? Blighted blossoms — can it be said "Of siii/i is the kintidom of heaven?' FROST-BITTEN. The white flakes fluttered about our lamps; Our wheels were hushed in the sleeping snow. Her white arms nestled amid her furs; Her hands half-held, with languid grace, Her fading roses ; fair to see Was the dreamy look in her sweet, young- face. Wk. were driving home from the " Patri- I watched her, saying never a word, archs' " — For I would not waken those dreaming Molly Lcfevre and I, you know; eyes. 1-RUST- BITTEN. 31 The breath of the roses filled the air, And, low as the voice of a Summer And my thoughts were many, and far rill, from wise. Her answer came. It was — "Yes, per- haps — At last I said to her, bendiny near. But who would settle our carriage bill? " " Ah, Molly Lef^vre, how sweet 'twould be The dying roses breathed their last, To ride on dreaming, all our lives, Our wheels rolled loud on the stones Alone with the roses — you and me. ' just then. Where the snow had drifted; the subject Her sweet lips faltered, her sweet ej-es dropped. fell, It has never been taken up again. "A LADY IN SEALSKIN— EYES OF BLUE, AND TANGLED TRESSES OF SNOW-FLECKED GOLD." Painted by Francis Daw -'%»■»» CHRISTMAS GREENS. So h And ( III. LM\vhur\' pastor is fair and young-, By far too good for a single lite, And many a maiden, \l saith gossip's tongue. Would fain be Low- bury pastor's wife: is book-marks are 'broidered in crim- son and gold, his slipjjers are, reall_\% a " sight to behold. " That's Lowbury pastor sitting there On the cedar boughs b\- the chancel rails; His face is clouded with carking care, For it's nearly five, the daylight fails — The church is silent, — the girls all gone. And the Christmas wreaths not nearly done. A lady in seal-skin — eyes of blue, And tangled tresses of snow-flecked gold- She speaks, " Good gracious I can this be you. Sitting alone in the dark and cold? The rest all gone! Why it wasn't right; These texts will never be done to-night." • .She sits her down at her pastor's feet, And, wreathing evergreen, weaves her wiles. Heart-piercing glances bright and fleet, Soft little sighs, and shy little smiles; But the pastor is solemnly sulky and glum, And thinketh it strange that " she " doesn't come. Then she tells him earnestly, soft and low, How she'd do licr part in tliis world of strife. And humbly look to him to know The path that her feet should tread through life — Her pastor yawneth behind his hat, And wondereth what she is driving at. Two tiny boots crunch-crunch the snow. They saucily stamp at the transept door, And then up to the pillared aisle they go Pit-pat, click-clack, on the marble floor — A lady fair doth that pastor see. And he saith, "Oh, bother, it isn't she I " Crunch-crunch again on the snow outside- The pastor riseth unto his feet. The vestry door is opened wide, A dark-eyed maid doth the pastor greet ; And that lady fair can see and hear Her pastor kiss her, and call her " dear." I'OINT J.ACI-; AND DIAMONDS. "Why, Maud!" "AVhy, Nelly damsels cry ; But lo, what troubles that lady fair? On Nelly's fintjer there meets her eye The glow of a diamond solitaire, And she thinks, as she sees the glittcrin;. rin.o-, those There sit they all 'neath the Christmas- tree, For ]\Iaud is determined that she wont K" ; The pastor is cross as a man can be. And Nelly would like to pinch her so ; And thev eo on wreathintr the text again — "And so she's thine ! " jt him — the hatefr.l It is Peace on earth and good-will towards men." CHINESE LANTERNS. Through the windows on the park Float the waltzes, weirdly sweet; In the light, and in the dark, Rings the chime of dancing feet. Mid the branches, all a-row, Fiery jewels gleam and glow; Dreamingly we walk beneath, — Ah, so slow! Ah I those deep, alluring eyes, Quiet as a haunted lake ; In their depths the passion lies Half in slumber, half awake. Lay thy warm, white hand in mine. Let the fingers clasp and twine. While my eager, panting heart Beats 'gainst thine. All the air is full of love ; Misty shadows wrap us round ; Light below and dark above. Filled with softly-surging sound. See the forehead of the Night Garlanded with flowers of light. And her goblet crowned with wine. Golden brieht. Bring thy velvet lips a-near, Mine are himgrj- for a kiss, Gladly will I sate them, dear; Closer, closer, — this, — and this. On thy lips love's seal I lay. Nevermore to pass away; — That was all last night, you know. But to-dav THOUGHTS 0.\ THE COMMANDMENTS. 17 Chinese lanterns hung in strings, Painted paper, penny dips, — Filled with roasted moths and things, Greasy with the tallow drips. Wet and torn, with rusty wire, Blackened by the dying fire , Withered flowers, trampled deep In the mire. Chinese lanterns, Bernstein's band, Belladonna, lily white. These made up the fairy-land Where I wandered all last night ; Ruled in all its rosy glow By a merry Queen, you know. Jolly, dancing, laughing, witching, Veuve Cliquot. THOUGHTS ON THE COMMANDMENTS. "Love your neighbor as yourself,"— So the parson preaches ; That's one-half the Decalogue, — So the Prayer-book teaches. Half my duty I can do With but little labor. For with all my heart and .soul I do love my neighbor. Mighty little credit, that. To mj' self-denial ; Not to love her, though, might be Something of a trial. Why, the rosj' light, that peeps Through the glass above her, Lingers round her lips: — you see E'en the sunbeams love her. So to make my merit more I'll go beyond the letter; Love my neighbor as myself Yes, and ten times better. For she's sweeter than the breath Of the Spring, that passes Through the fragrant, budding woods. O'er the meadow-gra.sses. '■ For \vn II all .mv heart and soul I DO LOVE MY NEIGHBOR." And I've preached the word I know, For it was my duty To convert the stubborn heart Of the little beauty. Once again success has crowned Missionary labor. For her sweet eyes own that she Also loves her neighbor. Kir.HT HOURS. " Sign the petition ! " " Write my name : " "She said, ask me I" — «h, she's fooliny; Where do yoii think a oirl like me Could find the time for so much school- ing? Why, I've been here sinec I was eight or so — That's ten years now — and it seems like longer ; The hours are from eight till six — you see It wears one out — I once was stronger. "A bad coughl " Oh, that's nothing, sir; It comes from the dust, and bending over. It hurts me sometimes — no, not now. " This! " why, a flower, a bit of clover; I picked it up as I came to work — It grew in the grass in some one's airy. Where it stood, and nodded all alone Like a little green-cloaked, white- capped fairy. " Fond of flowers! " I like them — yes — Though, gcjodness knows, I don't see many — I'd have to buy them — they cost so much — And I never can spare a single penny. " (io to the park! " — how can I, sir? The only day that I have is vSunday ; And then there's always so much to do That before I know it, almost, it's Mon- day. Like it, sir, like it I — why, when I tliink ( )f the woods, and the brook with the cattle drinking — I was country-bred, sir — my heart swells so That I — there, there, what's the u.se of thinking! If I could write, sir — "make a cross. And let you Avrite my name below it"— No, please; I'm ashamed I can't, some- tiiTies — I don't want all the girls to know it. And what's the use of it, anyway? They'll just say .shorth", with careless faces, " If you're not suited, you'd better leave " — There's plenty of girls to fill our places. They're kind enough to their own, no doubt — Our head jvist worships his own )'oung daughter, Just my age, sir — she's gone away To spend the vSummer across the water. But us — oh, well, we're only "hands," Do you think to please us they'll bear losses? Xo, not a cent's worth — ah, you'll see — I'm a working girl, sir, and I know bosses. "HOW THE OLD PORTRAITS TAKE YOU BACK." Painted bv Francis Daw I UP f^r! '.-*! 1691 8V FREDEftlCH A STOi- OLD PHOTOGRAPHS. Old lady, put your glasses on, With polished lenses, mounting golden, And once again look slowly through The album olden. Why, who is this, the bright coquette? Her eyes with Love's bright arrows laden — " Poor Nell, she's living single yet, — An ancient maiden. " How the old portraits take you back To friends who once would 'round you gather — All .scattered now, like frosted leaves In blusterinjr weather. And this, the fragile poetess? Whose high soul-yearnings nought can smother — " .She's stouter far than I am now, A kind grandmother." Who is this girl with flowing curls, Who on the golden tuture muses? " What splendid hair she had I — and now A 'front' she uses." And this? " Why, if it's not my own ; And did I really e'er resemble That bright young creature? Take the book — !My old hands tremble. " It seems that only yesterday We all were young; ah, how passes! " Old lady, put the album down, And wipe your glasses. time MARRIAGE A LA MODE. A TRILOGY. I. love's young dream. — a. d. iSSo. "Thank you — much obliged, old hoy, Yes, it's so; report says true. I'm engaged to Nell Latine — What else could a fellow do? Governor was getting fierce; Asked me, with paternal frown. When I meant to go to work, Take a wife, and settle down. Stormed at my extra- vagance. Talked of cutting off supplies — Fairly bullied me, you know — Sort of thing that I despise. Well, you see, I lost worst Avay At the races — Gov- ernor raged — So, to try and smooth him down, I went off, and got engaged. Sort of jnit-up job, you know — All arranged with old Latine- Nellie raved about it first, Said her 'pa was awful mean! J-^^. C'Al.l. -1 lIKkK (Il-'IKN, SIT .■\NIi CH.VV Now it's done we don't much mind — Tell the truth. I'm rather glad; Looking at it every way. One inust own it isn't bad. She's good-looking, rather rich, — Mother left her quite a pile ; Dances, goes out everywhere ; Fine old family, real good style. Then she's good, as girls go now, Some idea of wrong and right, Don't let every man she meets 1^^ Kiss her, on the ^ A self-same night. We don't do aft'ection much, Nell and I are real good friends, Call there often, sit and chat. Take her 'round, and there it ends. Spooning I Well, I tried it once — Acted like an awful calf— Said I really loved her. Gad! You should just ha\-e heard her laugh. Why, slie ran me for a month, Teased me till she made me wince; 'Mustn't flirt with her,' she said. MARRIAGE A LA MODE. 43 So I haven't tried it since. 'Twould be pleasant to be loved Like )-ou read about in book.s — Minnling- souls, and tender eyes — Love, and that, in all their looks; Thoughts of you, and no one else ; Voice that has a tender rinjj. Sacrifices made, and — well — You know — all that sort of thing. That's all worn-out talk, they sa)-, Don't see any of it now — Spooning on yonr Jiana'c Isn't good style, anyhow. Just suppose that one of us, — Nell and me, you know — some day Got like that on some one else — Might be rather awkward — eh! All in earnest, like the books — Wouldn't it be awful rough! Jove! if I— but pshaw, what bosh! Nell and I are safe enough. — Some time in the Spring, I think; Be on hand to wish us joy'? Be a groomsman, if you like — Lots of wine — good-bye, old b<;y." II. UP THF. AISI.K. A. I). I 88 1. Takf. my cloak — and now fix my veil, Jenny ,— How silly to cover one's face! I might as well be an old woman. But then there's one comfort — it's lace. Well, what has become of those ushers? — Oh, Pa, have you got my bouquet.' I'll freeze standing here in the lobby. Why doesn't the organist play? They've started at last— what a bustle! Stop, Pa!— they're not far enough- wait ! One minute more— now! Do keep step, Pa! There, drop my trail, Jane!— is it straight? I hope I look timid, and shrinking! The church must be perfectly full — Good gracious, plea.se don't walk .so fa.st, Pa! He don't seem to think that trains pull. The chancel at la.st — mind the .step, Pa! — I don't feel embarrassed at all — But, my! What's the minister saying? Oh, I know, that part 'bout Saint Paul. I hope my position is graceful — How awkwardly Nelly Dane stood ! " Not lawfully be joined together. Now .speak " — as if any one would. Oh, dear, now it's my turn to answer — I do wish that Pa would stand still. " Serve him, love, honor, and keep him"— How sweetly he says it — I will. Where's Pa?— there, I knew he'd forget it When the time came to give me away — " I, Helena, take thee — love — cherish — And " — well, I can't help it, — "obey." Here, Maud, take my bouquet — don't drop it — I hope Charley's not lost the ring! Just like him.' — no — goodness, how heavy! It's really an elegant thing. It's a shame to kneel down in white satin — And the flounce real old lace — bu: I must — I hope that they've got a clean cushion, They're usually covered with dust. 44 POINT LACK AM) I iIA.Mi >.\T)S. All over — ah, thanks! — now, don't fuss, Pa :— Just throw back my veil, Charley — there ! Oh, bother! Why couldn't he kiss nic Without niussinti' up all my hair! Your arm, Charley, there ;-atiir,- : I know he was never to blame. He never suspected. He liked her — He'd known her for most of his life — And, of course, it vns quite a temptation To run off with another man's wife. At his age, 3-ou know — barelv thirty — vSo romantic, and makes such a noise In one's club — why, one can't but cxcu.se him. Now can one, dear? Roys will be boys. I've known him so long — why, he'd come here And talk to mc just like a son. It's my duty — I feel as a mother — To save him ; the thing- can be done Very easily. First, I must show him How grossly the woman deceived And entrapped him. — It made such a scandal, You know, that he can' t be received At all, any more, till he drops her — He'll certainly not be so mad As to hold to her .still. Oh, I know him >So well — I'm quite sure he'll be glad, ( )n any excuse, to oblige me In a matter so trifling indeed. Then the way will be clear. We' II receive him, And the rest will soon follow our lead. We must keep our eyes on him more closely Hereafter; 3'oung men of his wealth And position are .so sorely tempted To waste time, and fortune, and health In frivolous pleasures and pastimes. That there's but one safeguard in life l-'or them and their money — we've seen it — A really nice girl for a wife. Too bad you've no daughter! My ]\Ianiie Had influence with him for good Before this affair — when he comes here She'll meet him, I'm sure, as she .should — That is, as if nothing had happened — And greet him with sisterly joy; Between us I know we can sa-ce him. I'll write him to-morrow, poor boy." "THE FEET THAT KISSED ITS PAVEMENT ARE DEEP IN COUNTRY GRASS." Painted bv Fill lie is Daw THE "STAY-AT-HOMES" PLAINT. The Spring has grown to Summer; The sun is fierce and high ; The city shrinks, and withers Beneath the burning sky, Aihxntus trees are fragrant, And thicker shadows cast. Where berry-girls, with voices shrill. And watering-carts go past. In offices like ovens We sit without our coats ; ( Hir cuiTs are moist and shapeless, No collars bind our throats. We carry huge umbrellas On Broad Street and on Wall, Oh, how thermometers go up I And, oh, how stocks Jo fall ! The nights are full of music. Melodious Teuton troops Beguile us, calmly smoking On balconies and stoops. With e)-es half -shut, and dreamy, We watch the fire-rties' spark, And image far-off faces, As day dies into dark. The avenue is lonely. The houses choked with dust ; The shutters, barred and bolted. The bell-knobs all a-rust. No blossom-like spring dresses. No faces young and fair. From " Dickers " to "The Brunswick," No promenader there. The girls we used to walk with Are far away, alas! The feet that kissed its pavement Are deep in country gra.ss. "The nymphs of Echo Lake." Along the scented hedge-rows, Among the green old trees. Are blooming city faces 'Neath rosy-lined pongees. so I'Ol.xr LACK AM) DIAMONDS. Thej-'rc cottaging at Newport; They're bathing at Cape May; In vSaratoga's ball-rooms They dance the hours away. Their voices through the quiet ( )f haunted Catskill break ; Or rouse those dreamy dryads, The nymphs of Echo Lake. The hands we've led through (xermans, And squeezed, perchance, of yore, Now deftly grasp the bridle. The mallet, and the oar. The eyes that wrought our ruin On other men look down ; We're but the broken playthings They've left behind in town. Oh, happj^ Gran'dame Nature, Whose wandering children come To light with happy faces The dear old mother-home, lie tender with our darlings. Each merry inaiden bears Such love and longing with her — !Men's lives are wrapped in theirs. SLEEPING BEAUTY. A PARABLE. You remember the nursery legend — We heard in the early days, E're we knew of the world's deception Or walked in its dusty ways, And dwelt in the land of the fairies. Where the aii crolden haze — was Of the maid, o'er whom the Summers Of youth passed, like a swell Of melody all unbnjk- en. Till evil wrought its spell, And dream-embroidered curtains Of slumber round her fell. THK PRINCK ! The wood grew up round her castle, The centuries o'er it rolled. Wrapping its slumb'rous turrets In clinging robes of mould. And her name became a legend By Winter firesides told. Till the Prince came over the mountains In the morning-glow of }-outh ; The forest sank before him Like wrong before the truth, And he passed the dim old portal, AVith its warders .so uncouth. .\ riir-: moknmxg-gi.ow of VllflH." EASTER MORNING. 51 Woke with a kiss the Princess, And broke enchantment's chain. The sleepy old castle wondered. In its cobweb-cumbered brain. At the tide of life and pleasure That poured through each stony vein. And so love conquered an evil Centuries old in might, Scattering drowsy glamour, Piercing the murky night, Leading from thrall and darkness Beauty, and joy, and light. EASTER MORNING. Too early, of course ! How provoking ! I told Ma just how it would be. I might as well have on a wrapper. For there isn't a soul here to see. There I Sue Delaplaine's pew is empty, — I declare if it isn't too bad! I know my suit cost more than hers did. And I wanted to see her look mad. I do think that sexton's too stupid — He's put some one el.se in our pew — And the girl's dress just kilLs mine completely ; Now what am I going to do? The psalter, and Sue isn't here yet I I don't care, I think it's a sin For people to get late to service. Just to make a great show coming in. Perhaps she is sick, and can't get here — She said she'd a headache last night. How mad she'll be after her fussing! I declare, it would serve her just right. Oh, you've got here at last, my dear, have you ? Well, I don't think you need be so proud Of that bonnet, if Virot did make it ; It's horrid fast-looking and loud. What a dress I — for a girl in her senses To ofo on the street in lis^ht blue! — And those coat-sleeves — they wore them last Summer — Don't doubt, though, that she thinks they're new. Mrs. Gray's polonaise was imported — So dreadful I — a minister's wife, And thinking so much about fashion! — A pretty example of life! The altar's dressed sweetly. I wonder Who sent those white flowers for the font!— Some girl who's gone on the assistant — • Don't doubt it was Bessie LauK^nt. Just look at her now, little humbug! — vSo devout — I suppose she don't know That she's bending her head too far over, And the ends of her switches all show. What a sight Mrs. Ward is this morning! That woman will kill me some day, With her horrible lilacs and crimsons; Why will these old things dress so gay? And there's Jenny Welles with Fred Tracy- She's engaged to him now — horrid thing! Dear me! I'd keep on my glove some- times, If I did have a solitaire ring! 52 POINT LACE AND DIAMONDS. How can this girl next to me act so — The way tliat she turns round and stares. And then makes remarks about pe<.)ple; She'd better be saying her prayers. <.)h, dear, what a dreadful h)ng sermon! He must love to hear himself talk! And it's after twelve now, — how provok- ing! I wanted to have a nice walk. Through at last ! Well, it isn't so dreadful After all, for we don't dine till one; How can people say church is poky! — So wicked! — I think it's real fun. ^^n .^i _^i •ANi) THH BHAUTIES WE'VE SIGHED FOR ALL SUMMER ARE HURRYING BACK INTO TOWN." Painted bv Francis Daw / r W P A N C I 5 C A\Y 'FHIGMT ld9' BY FREOERICIA A STOKtS THE " STAY-AT-HOMES ■• P/EAN. "Thk ki.oweks is the garden ake head." The evenings are damper and colder, The maples and sumacs are red, The wild Equinoctial is cominj,'-, The flowers in the garden are dead. The steamers are all overflowing. The railroads are all loaded down. And the beauties we've sighed for all Summer Are hurrying back into town. They come from the banks of the Hudson, From the sands of the Branch, and Cape :May ; From the parlors of bright Saratoga, From the dash of Niagara's spray. From misty, sea-salt Narragansett, From Mahopac's magical lake — They come on their way to new conquests, They're longing for more hearts to break. E'en Newport is dull and deserted — Its billowy beaches no more Made bright with sweet, ocean-kissed faces. Love's beacon-lights set on the shore. The rugged "White Hills of New Hamp- shire, The last of their lovers have seen, The echoes are left to their slumbers, No dainty feet thread the ravine. On West Point's delightful parade-ground Sighs many a hapless cadet, Who's basked through the long days of Summer In the smiles of a city cocjuette ; And now the incipient hero Beholds his enchantress depart, With the spoils of her lightly won triumph. His buttons, as well as his heart. Come, dry your eyes, Grandmother Nature, They care not a whit for your woe ; The city is calling her daughters — We can't spare them longer, they know — Our beautiful, tender-voiced darlings. With the blue of the deep .Summer skies. And the glow of the bright Summer sun- shine. Entrapped in their mischievous eyes. 56 POINT I.ACE AND IHAMONDS. Wc know their expenses are awful, That horror unsiieakablc fills The souls of unfortunate fathers Who foot up their dressmaker's hills. That they'd barter their souls for French eandy ; That diamonds ruin their peace; That they rave over middle-aged actors. And in other respects are — well, geese. Wc laugh at them, hoys, but we love them, l-'or under their nonsense we know They've hearts that are honest and loving, And souls that are whiter than snow. So out with that bottle of Roedererl Large glasses, boysl Up goes the cork! All charged? To the l)elles of creation — The u'lorions girls of New York. A SONG. ■Her voice is genti.f., and ci.e.^r asd pure ; It RI.NC.S I.IKE THE CHIME OE .\ SILVER HEI.I. Si>KiNC.-iiMK is coming again, my dear ; Sunshine and violets blue, you know ; Crocuses lifting their sleepy heads Out of their sheets of snow. And I know a blossom sweeter by far Than violets blue, <.)r crocuses are. And bright as the sunbeam's glow. But how can I dare to look in her eyes. Colored with heaven's own hue? That woiddn't do at all, my dear, It really wouldn't do. Her hair is a rippling, tossing sea; In its golden depths the fairies play, , Heckoning, dancing, mocking there, Luring my heart away. And her merry lips are the ripest red That ever addled a poor man's head, Or led his wits astray. "What wouldn't I give to taste the sweets " LE DEKNIER JoUR l/UX C< ).\DA.MNE. ' ■57 Of those rose-leaves wet with dew ! But that wouldn't do at all, my dear, It really wouldn't do. Her voice is gentle, and clear and pure; It rings like the chime of a silver bell, And the thought it wakes in my foolish head I'm really afraid to tell. Her little feet kiss the ground below, And her hand is white as the whitest snow That e'er from heaven fell. But I wouldn't dare to take that hand, Reward for my love to sue ; That wouldn't do at all, my dear, It really wouldn't do. LE DFRNIHR |OUR DUN CONDAMNE." Old coat, for some three or four seasons We've been jolly comrades, but now We part, old companion, forever; To fate, and the fashion, I bow. You'd look well enough at a dinner, I'd wear you with pride at a ball ; But I'm dressing to-night for a wedding — My own — and you'd not do at all. You,'ve too many wine-stains about you, You're scented too much with cigars. When the gas-light shines full on your collar, It glitters with myriad stars. That wouldn't look well at my weddins.^; They'd seem inappropriate there — Nell doesn't use diamond powder. She tells me it ruins the hair. You've been out on Cozzens's piazza Too late, when the evenings were damp. When the moon-beams were silvering Cro'nest, And the lights were all out in the camp. You've rested on highly oiled stairways Too often, when sweet eyes were bright, And somebody's ball dre.ss — notNellie'.s— Flowed 'round you in rivers of white. There's a reprobate looseness about you ; Should I wear you to-night, I believe, As I come with my bride from the altar. You'd laugh in your wicked old sleeve, When you felt there the tremulous pressure Of her hand, in its delicate glove. That is telling me shyly, but proudly, Her trust is as deep as her love. 58 I'OIN'P I, ACE AND DIAMONDS. So, go to 3-our grave in the wardrobe, And furnish a feast for the moth, Nell's glove shall betray its sweet secrets To younger, more innocent cloth. 'Tis time to put on 3'our successor — It's made in a fashion that's new; Old coat, I'm afraid it will never Sit as easily on me as you. PYROTECHNIC POLYGLOT. (MADISON StiUARK, JULY 4.) "Hk\, Jiihniiy Mcriinnis, where are yez? I've got a place I Arrah, be quick! " Whiz I Boom! "Hooray, there goes a rocket ; Hi, Johnny, look out for the shtick! " "Confound it, sir! Those are my feet, sir! " "Oh, Pa, lift me up, I can't see." "Come down out o' that, yez yoimg lilack- guards ! Div yez want to be killin' the tree? " " Hooray! look at that! " " Aint it bully! " "It's stuck!" "No, it aint." "There she goes! " " I wish that you'd speak to this man, Fred, He's standing all over my toes." " Take down that umbrella in front there !' " My! aint we afraid of our hat! " " Me heart's fairly broke wid yez shovin' — Have done now — what would yez be at? " " Jehiel, neow haint this jest orful I 'most wish I hedn't a come; Such actions I never — one would think Folks left their perliteness to hum." " Look here, now, you schoost stop dose schovin'." " By gar, den, get out from ze vay, Vou stupide Dootschmans, vilain cochon " — " Kreuz!" — " Peste!" — " Donnerwetter!" — " Sacr-r-re! " "Oh, isn't that cross just too lovely! So bright, why the light makes me wink!" "Your eyes, dear, are" — "don't be a goose, Fred ; What do you suppose folks will think?" Crash! vScreech! " Och, I'm kilt !"—" Fred, what is it? " " Branch broken — small boy come to grief. " 'Boo, hoo, hoo, hoo! I wants mine muzzer! " "Look out there!" "Police!" "Hi, stop thief! " "Well, father, I guess it's all over; Just help Nelly down off the stool." MORAL. Sung: — " Mellican piecee fire bully! " Chino: — " Mellican man piecee fool." "YES, JACK, THERE WAS MY BRUNETTE. Painted by Francis Day. -S»s- *♦» FflANLlb PAV A LEGEND OF ST. VALENTINE. Come! Why, halloa, that you. Jack? How's the world been using you? Want your pipe? it's in the jar — Think I might be looking blue. Maud's been breaking off with me ; Fact — see here — I've got the ring. That's the note she sent it in; Read it — soothing sort of thing. <4^ ' kKAK 11— S.HJllU:. iKI' UK TIllXc; Jack, you know I write sometimes — Must have read some things of mine. Well, I thought I'd just send 'Slaud Something for a valentine. So I groimd some verses out In the .softest kind of style. Full of love, and that, you know — Bothered me an awful while; Quite a heavy piece of work. So when I had got them done — Why I thought them much too good Just to waste that waj' on one. Jack, I told you, didn't I, All about that black-eyed girl Up in Stratford — last July — Oh ! you know ; j'ou saw her curl ? Well, old fellow, .she's the one That this row is all about, For I sent her — who'd have thought Maud would ever find it out — Those same verses, word for word — Hang it, man! you needn't roar — " Splendid joke! " well, so I thought- No, don't think so any more. Yesterday, you know it rained, I'd been up late — at a ball— Didn't know what else to do — Went up and made Maud a call. Found some other girl there, too. They were playing a duet. "Fred, my cousin, Nelly Deane," — Yes, Jack, there was my brunette ; You sho^ild just have seen me, Jack- Now, old fellow, please don't laugh, I feel bad about it — fact — And I really can't stand chaiT. Well, I tried to talk to Maud; There was Nell, though, sitting by; Every now and then she'd laugh. Sure I can't imagine why. Maud would read that beastly poem, Nell's eyes said in just one glance, " Wont I make )'ou pay for this. If I ever get the chance ! " Some one came and rang the bell — Just a note for Nell, by post. Jack, I saw my monogram — ■ I'd have rather seen a ghost. 62 POINT LACK AM) DIAMONDS. Yes — her verses — I suppose That her folks had sent them dowii — Couldn't get up there, you know — Till she'd left and come to town. Xelly looked them quickly through — Laughed — by Jove, I thought she'd choke 1 ■'Maud — he'll kill me — dearl oh, dear! — Read that; isn't it a joke? " Maud glanced through them — sank right down On the sofa — hid her face — ■' Crying! " — not much — laughing, Jack*- Don't think she's a hopeless case. I just grabbed my hat and left — Only wish I'd gone before. How they laughed! — I heard them, Jack- Till I got outside the door. There, confession's done me good, I can never win her back, So I 11 calmly let her slide — Pass the ash-cup, will ytni, Jack? MATINAL MUSINGS. Ten o'clock ! "Well, I'm sure I can't help it ! I'm up — go away from the door! Now, children, I'll speak to your mother If yovL pound there like that any more. I wish I'd not danced quite so often — I knew I'd feel tired! but it's hard To refuse a magnificent dancer If you have a place left on your card How tired I do feel ! — Where's that cu.shion? — I don't want to move from this chair; I wish Marie'd make her appearance! I really ar//'/ do my own hair. I was silly to wear that green satin, It's a shame that I've spotted it so- All down the front breadth — it's just ruined — • No trimming will hide that. 1 know. .MATI.NAl. MUSINGS, 63 That's me! Have a costume imported, And spoil it the very first night! — I mijrht make an overskirt of it, That shade looks so lovely with white. How horrid my eyes look ! Good jjracioiis ! I hope that I didn't catch cold : fitting out on the stairs with Will Stacy; If Ma knew that, wouldn't she scold! She says he's so fast — well, who isn't? — Dear! where is Marie? — how it rains! — I don't care; he's real nice and handsome. And his talk sounds as if he'd some brains. I do wonder what is the reason. That good men are all like Joe Price, So poky, and stiff, and conceited. And fast ones are always so nice. Just see how Joe acted last evening! He didn't come near me at all. Because I danced twice with Will Stacy That night at the Charity Ball. I didn't care two pins to do it; But Joe said I mustn't, — and so — I just did — he isn't my master. Nor shant be, I'd like him to know. I don't think he looked at me even. Though just to please him I wore green,— And I'd saved him three elegar.t dances, — /wouldn't have acted so mean. The way he went on with Nell Hadley; Dear mc ! just as if I would care ! I'd like to see those two get manned, They'd make a congenial pair! I'm getting disgusted with parties; — I think I shall stop going out ; What's the use of this fussing for people I don't care the least bit about. I (//(/think that Joe had some sense once; But, my, he's just like all the men! And the way that I've gone en about him, Just see if I do it again ! Only wait till the next time I sec him, I'll pay him back; wont I be cool! I've a good mind to drop him completely — I'll — yes I will — go back to school. The bell! — who can that be, I wonder! — Let's see — I declare! why, it's Joe! — How long they are keeping him waiting! Good gracious! why don't the girl go! — Yes — say I'll be down in a minute — Quick, Marie, and do up my hair! — Not that bow — the green one — Joe likes it — How slow you are! — I'll pin it — there! AN AFTERTHOUC'.HT. Vine leaves rustled, moon- beams shone, Summer breezes softly sighed ; You and I were all alone In a kingdom fair and wide — You, a Queen, in all your pride, I, a vassal by youf side. Fairy voices in the leaves Ceaselessly were whis- pering : " 'Tis the time to gamer sheaves — Let your heart its long- ing sing; Place upon her hand a ring, Then our Queen shall know her Kin .M>' iik.kd. (he remonstrates ) There, stop! That'll do — yes, I own it — But, dear, I was young then, you know. I wrote that before we were married ; Let's see — why, it's ten years ago! You remember that night, at Drake's party. When you flirted with Dick all the time? You gave a good guess at its meaning The night you said "Yes," little wife. One kiss for old times' sake, my Dolly — That didn't seem much like a dream. Holloa! something's wrong with the children ! Those young ones do nothing but scream. ZWEI KONIGE AUF ORKADAL FROM THE GERMAN. Therk sat two kings The other answered in yloomy scorn, Tipon Orkadal, "She's mine, oh, brother 1 — my oath is The torches flamed in sworn." tlic pillared hall. No other word spake either king- — -'The minstrel sings, the In their golden sheaths the keen swords red wine glows, rmg. The twcj kings drink with gloomy brows. Together they pass from the lighted hall- Deep lies the snow by the castle-wall. ( )iit spake the one, — '■ (rive me this girl, Steel-sparks and torch-sparks in showers With her sea-bine eyes, and brow of fall — pearl." Two kings lie dead upon Orkadal. "THH SUNBEAMS LIT HER GLEAMING HAIR WITH RIPPLING WAVES OF GOLDEN GLORY." Painted bv Francis Day. ^«r 'if ^ fP CHIVALRIE. I Under the maple boughs we sat, Annie Leslie and I together; She was trimming her sea-side hat With leaves — we talked about the weather. The sunbeams lit her gleaming hair With rippling waves of golden glor)-, And ej-es of blue, and ringlets fair, Suggested many an ancient story Of fair-haired, blue-eyed maids of old. In durance held by grim magicians, Of knights in armor rough with gold. Who rescued them from such positions. Above, the heavens aglow with light, Beneath our feet the sleeping ocean, E'en as the sky my hope was bright, Deep as the sea was my devotion. Her father's voice came through the wood, He'd made a fortune tanning leather; I was liis clerk : I thought it good To keep on talking about the weather. REDUCTIO AD ABSURDUM. I HAD come from the city early That Saturday afternoon ; I sat with Beatrix under the trees In the mossy orchard ; the golden bees Buzzed over clover-tops, pink and pearly; I was at peace, and inclined to spoon. We were stopping awhile with mother. At the quiet country place Where first we'd met, one blossomy May, And fallen in love — so the dreamy day Brought to my memory many another In the happy time when I won her grace. 80 I'DIXT LACE AM) DIAMONDS. Days in the bright Spring weather, She turned and rested her blushing face When the twisted, rough old tree Against my shoulder; a sunbeam falling Showered down apple-blooms, dainty and Through the leaves above us crowned sweet, her head. That swung in her hair, and blushed at her feet; And .so I held her, trusting Sweet was her face as we lingered together. That none was by to see ; And dainty the "kisses my love gave me. A sad mistake — for low, but clear, This feminine comment reached my " Dear love, are you recalling ear; The old days, too? " I said. " Married for ages — it's just disgusting — Her sweet eyes filled, and with tender Such actions — and, Fred, they've got grace our tree 1 " PER ASPERA AD ASTRA. A CANV.As-B.^cK duck, rarely roasted. You say Lilli Lehman sang quite too between us, divinely — A bottle of Chambertin, worthy of I know I can't lose on that last deal in praise — stocks. Less noble a wine at our age would bemean Without waits our footman to call for our us — carriage — A salad of celery en mayonnaise, Gad, how he must hate us, out there in With the oysters we've eaten, fresh, plump, the cold 1 — and delicious. We rode in a hack on the day of our Naught left of them now but a dream marriage, and the shells; Number two forty-six — I was rolling in No better souper e'en Lucullus could wish gold, us — Why, even our waiter regards us as swells. t7„,. tvi „„,-^.. cc^ in i i •. •" *' for 1 d quite fifty dollars; and don t you remember Your dress is a marvel, your jewels show We drove down to Taylor's — a long finely, cherished dream : Your friends in the circle all envied Ht)\v grandly I ordered — just think, in your box ; December ! — PER ASI'I;RA AU ASTRA. 8i 7r^(r^ m 1 "YOUR FRIENDS IN THE CIRCLE ALL ENVIED VOUR BOX.' » Some cake, and two plates of vanilla And daughters just out, whose sneers ice-cream. make you wince, And how we enjoyed it I Your glance We've tasted the fruit of Society's was the proudest knowledge — Among the proud beauties, your face I don't think we've quite enjoyed the most fair ; anything since. I'm rather afraid, too, your laugh was the All through, dear? Now, tio/i'f wipe your loudest ; mouth with the doily ! I know we shocked every one — we didn't They're really not careful at all with care. their wine; It wasn't half warmed — the salad was oily — Now we'd care a great deal — with two And I don't think the duck was remark- sons at college, ably fine. THE LANGUAGE OE LOVE. On I he was a student of mystic lore: And she was a soidful girl, All nerves and mind, of the cultured kind The paragon, pride, and pearl. They loved with a nco-Concordic love, Woofed weirdly with wistful woe. They sat in a glen, remote from men, Their converse was high and low. "What marvellous words of marvellous love Speak marvellous .souls like tb.ese?" I drew me niglT till their faintest sigh Was heard with the greatest ease. " 'Oo's 'ittle white lammy is 'oo? " breathed he: " 'Oors. 'Oo's lovey-dovey is "oo' "'Oors! 'Oors! Would 'oo k y if dovey should die?" "Xo'p! — tause 'ittle lammy'd die too." How truthful we poets! The " language of Love " Is a phrase we employ full oft ; But whenever wc do, we prefi.x thereto. You've noticed, the adjective "soft." C 32 89 i* ■■J ' u , 4 ^/> -^"^ / (f- ,■•.♦0, O. ♦ V >#'. "^ < V rf, •• " " -V.S'^' •1 o^ ' '- •*-_ „^^ ..<*, -^o ■&* oil?". *^ xo^ .-'J.;- ^o, -.* o S" .^^ '>6* V.^ sv ■^ ^"^-^^ •^^^^ V v^^-;o^ V^^V v-^-;o' \^'W^\r \'yW'\'>' s'^ -or «5°x. . V*" o^ ••• < o -J' ^v "-^^^ >^Vi-^'>o ,/\.^;:X >°y>i^^°-„ ./\-^;:.\. >°%i>;!^', °o ./•'-- L«" • .« "^•^0^ .*^^'- -^v^' .'"^iS: "-^^^-o^' ;^^^^'- "^os^" f^-'^iS'-. '■•^^^^^' ''^sz^^^'. ^^.-j^^ a*l°xv .1 «:i°^ 'bt." *-./ o«<-«i^K > * «? *». a^ -*- ••' f_,.,.r^c "* -^' --- ^-^ *^ ,'>J«^%% .0^* 3, 'o . , •e . . • A <&°^ ,