As the Truro vision in white, with happy lace and the light exulting step of early youth, passes by, it is evident she will never need to sit in the “Leap Year Engagement Seat,” where “no man may say ‘no’ to a self-respecting, modest woman.” Let us hope that the heart of the male to whom the leap-year question is here “popped” will not be affected by the “Cold Chamber” nearby. And see, our pretty maiden does not stop and rest in the “Irresistible Engagement Seat”; for is she not irresistibly engaging herself, without art or other allurement.
And now by a happy inspiration we guess her name. She is “Phyllis,” of course, and she is on her way to her own seat high up and tree-embowered, where her lover has long and impatiently waited her coming, as all true-lovers ever have done.
“Thou art a fool, said my head to my heart,
Yea, the greatest of fools, thou art,
To be caught with a trick of a tress;
By a smiling face or a ribbon smart—
And my heart was in sore distress.
Then Phyllis came by and her face was fair,
And the sun shone bright on her golden hair,