Abraham Hayward, Essays.
ND she? she marries money and a man.
Alfred Austin, The Season.
LADY of my acquaintance, a brunette, happened to show her maid one of those little sticking-plaster profiles which they used to call silhouettes. It was the portrait of the lady's aunt, whom the girl had never seen, and she said quite innocently, "La, ma'am, I always thought as how you had some black relations, you are so dark-like yourself, you know!"
Frederick Locker, Patchwork.
E pored upon the leaves, and on the flowers,
And heard a voice in all the winds; and then,
He thought of wood nymphs and immortal bowers,
And how the goddesses came down to men:
He miss'd the pathway, he forgot the hours,
And when he look'd upon his watch again,
He found how much old Time had been a winner—
He also found that he had lost his dinner.