She botanized; I envied each Young blossom in her boudoir fading; She kept an album, too, at home, Well filled with all an album's glories; Paintings of butterflies and Rome, Patterns for trimmings, Persian stories; Soft songs to Julia's cockatoo, Fierce odes to famine and to slaughter; And autographs of Prince Lèboo, And recipes of elder water. And she was flattered, worshipped, bored, Her steps were watched, her dress was noted, Her poodle dog was quite adored, Her sayings were extremely quoted. She smiled on many just for fun I knew that there was nothing in it; I was the first, the only one Her heart had thought of for a minute; I knew it, for she told me so, In phrase which was divinely moulded; She wrote a charming hand, and oh! How sweetly all her notes were folded! Our love was like most other loves- And "Fly Not Yet," upon the river; The usual vows-and then we parted. We parted-months and years rolled by; Our meeting was all mirth and laughter; IV.-MY PARTNER. "There is, perhaps, no subject of more universal interest in the whole range of natural knowledge, than that of the unceasing fluctuations which take place in the atmosphere in which we are immersed."-British Almanac. AT Cheltenham, where one drinks one's fill I danced, last year, my first quadrille, I spoke of novels:-" Vivian Grey" And "Frankenstein" alarming; And Lady Morgan's "racy;" I vowed that last new thing of Hook's And Laura said-"I dote on books, I talked of music's gorgeous fane, Hoped Ronzi would come back again, I wished the chorus singers dumb, "Alas!" my beauteous listener sighed, "We must have rain to-morrow!" I told her tales of other lands; Of poisonous lakes, and barren sands, I lauded Persian Roses, Coined similes for Spanish eyes, And jests for Indian noses: And Laura asked me where the glass I broached whate'er had gone its rounds, The week before, of scandal; What made Sir Luke lay down his hounds, Why Julia walked upon the heath, How Lord de B. and Mrs. L. My shuddering partner cried-" O Ciel! Was she a Blue ?--I put my trust A boudoir pedant?-I discussed A cockney-muse?-I mouthed a deal A saint?-I praised the pious zeal To quote the morning paper; Flat flattery was my only chance : |