She was smiling, and rosy, and bowed her thanks for the generous approval of her efforts.
As she unfolded her manuscript an expectant hush fell upon her audience, and she observed that significant and inquiring glances were exchanged between some of the members of the league.
"The paper which I have prepared," she began, "may not prove to be just what the club may have expected from me; but it will at least show that I have given the subject assigned me some thought.
"Once on a time—'twas not so very long ago—
Miss Puff craved something of Philosophy to know,
And, with proofs of culture armed and high position,
To a Summer School of Sages sought admission.
"With inspiration rare, she here absorbed her fill
Of ologies galore, and conned them o'er, until
Her wearied brain grew dazed beyond expression;
But, of this sad fact, Miss Puff made no confessions
"Ontology came first, with arguments profound,
With language mystical, the wisest to confound;
Physics took the platform next, to claim discussion,
And Metaphysics foll'wing near caused concussion.
"Cosmology! Phrenology! what charmed lore!
What depths profound! how high her aspirations soar!
Tidbits of sweetness for future delectation.
Ah! but could she give a lucid explication?
"Theosophy! Psychology! transcendent themes!
Glide softly in upon her philosophic dreams:
'Till soul upborne to realms of ecstasy sublime,
Earth's vanities grow dim upon the shores of time.
"But, lo! now hydra-head Theology appears
To shatter dreams and chill her heart with nameless fears,
For Sage and Seer spare not in sharp dissection,
'Till poor Puff, alas! no longer makes connection.
"But, all the same, 'twas lovely to 'philosophize!'
It mattered not if she were wise, or—otherwise;
Or deeply versed in themes on which the Sages dote,
Could she but keep on transcendental waves afloat.