“Oh, the men! Of course I hate ’em. I wouldn’t trust one of ’em anigh me. They’re a deceivin’, lyin’”——
How the sentence would have been completed is more than we can say. At this moment somebody trod upon the tail of a vixenish-looking dog that followed the lady, and, as she rushed out, others took her place at the window. Mr. Booth feels flattered that, while hating the male sex in general, she doesn’t hate the mail folks in particular.
THE POST COMES IN.
BY WILLIAM COWPER.
“Hark! ’tis the twanging horn o’er yonder bridge,
That with its wearisome but needful length
Bestrides the wintry flood; in which the moon
Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright.
He comes, the herald of a noisy world,
With spatter’d boots, strapp’d waist, and frozen locks,