And then the ladies, pwecious deahs!— I mawk the change on ev'wy bwow; Bai Jove! I weally have my feahs They wathah like the hawid wow!
To heah the chawming cweatures talk, Like patwons of the bloody wing, Of waw and all its dawty wawk,— It doesn't seem a pwappah thing!
I called at Mrs. Gweene's last night, To see her niece, Miss Mawy Hertz, And found her making—cwushing sight!— The weddest kind of flannel shirts!
Of cawce, I wose, and sought the daw, With fawyah flashing from my eyes! I can't appwove this hawid waw;— Why don't the pawties compwamise?
ANONYMOUS.
THE COMPLIMENT.
Arrayed in snow-white pants and vest, And other raiment fair to view, I stood before my sweetheart Sue— The charming creature I love best. "Tell me and does my costume suit?" I asked that apple of my eye— And then the charmer made reply, "Oh, yes, you do look awful cute!" Although I frequently had heard My sweetheart vent her pleasure so, I must confess I did not know The meaning of that favorite word.
But presently at window side We stood and watched the passing throng, And soon a donkey passed along With ears like wings extended wide. And gazing at the doleful brute My sweetheart gave a merry cry— I quote her language with a sigh— "O Charlie, ain't he awful cute?"
EUGENE FIELD.
THE NANTUCKET SKIPPER.