The table was spread with a cloth all of lace,
Woven by spiders the banquet to grace.
Oh, what good things they all had to eat!—
Slices of strawberry,—my what a treat!
Honey the sweetest the wild bee could hive,
And a humming-bird's egg for each of the five.
Then they drank their host's health in their favorite drink,
Which was,—now what was it? Can anyone think?
Why the dew-drop that comes from the heart of the rose
Is the drink of the fairies, as everyone knows.
COUNTING EGGS
ANONYMOUS
Old Moses, who sells eggs and chickens on the streets of Austin for a living, is as honest an old negro as ever lived; but he has the habit of chatting familiarly with his customers, hence he frequently makes mistakes in counting out the eggs they buy. He carries his wares around in a small cart drawn by a diminutive donkey. He stopt in front of the residence of Mrs. Samuel Burton. The old lady herself came out to the gate to make the purchase.
"Have you any eggs this morning, Uncle Moses?" she asked.
"Yes, indeed I has. Jess got in ten dozen from de kentry."
"Are they fresh?"
"Fresh? Yes, indeed! I guantees 'em, an'—an'—de hen guantees 'em."
"I'll take nine dozen. You can just count them into this basket."