I hope they've got a clean cushion,

They're usually covered with dust.

All over-ah! thanks!-now, don't fuss, pa!— Just throw back my veil, Charley-thereOh, bother! why couldn't he kiss me Without mussing up all my hair!—

Your arm, Charley, there goes the organWho'd think there would be such a crowd?

Oh, I mustn't look round, I'd forgottenSee, Charley, who was it that bowed? Why-it's Nelly Allaire with her husbandShe's awfully jealous, I know;

'Most all of my things were imported,

And she had a home-made trousseau,

And there's Annie Wheeler - Kate Hermon,

I didn't expect her at all,

If she's not in that same old blue satin
She wore at the Charity Ball!

Is that Fanny Wade?-Edith Pearton—
And Emma, and Jo-all the girls?

I knew they'd not miss my wedding—
I hope they'll all notice my pearls.
Is the carriage there?-give me my cloak,
Jane-

Don't get it all over my veil

No! you take the other seat, Charley,
I need all this for my trail.

•EXCE•

GEORGE A. BAKER, JR.

TO YOUNGSTERS.

GOLDEN hair and eyes of blue,

What won't they do?—what won't they do?
Eyes of blue and locks of gold—
My boy, you'll learn before you're old.
The gaitered foot, the taper waist-
Be not in haste, be not in haste;
Before your chin sprout twenty spear,

My word for 't, youngster, they'll appear.

Raven hair and eyes of night

Undo the boys (it serves 'em right);
Eyes of night and raven hair,

They'll drive you, Hopeful, to despair.
The drooping curl, the downward glance,
They're only waiting for the chance;
At nick of time they'll sure appear,
Depend upon it, laddie dear.

Shapely hands and arms of snow,

They know their charm, my boy, they know;
Flexile wrists and fleckless hands,
The lass that has them understands.
The cheeks that blush, the lips that smile—
A little while, a little while-

Before you know it, they'll be here,
And catch you napping, laddie dear.

Hands, and hair, and lips, and eyes—
'Tis there the tyro's danger lies.
You'll meet them leagued, or one by one;
In either case the mischief's done.

A touch, a tress, a glance, a sigh,

And then, my boy, good-by-good-by!
God help you, youngster! keep good cheer;
Coax on your chin to twenty spear.

From "The Century Magazine."

JOHN VANCE CHENEY.

THE HAT.

Recited by M. Coquelin, of the Comédie Française.

[In Paris, monologues are the fashion. Some are in verse; some are in prose. At every matinée, dinner-party, or soirée the mistress of the entertainment makes it her duty to provide some little scenic recitation, to be gone through by Saint-Germain or Coquelin. One which recently enjoyed great success entitled "The Hat," we here offer in an English version.]

Mise en Scène: A gentleman holding his hat.

WELL, yes! On Tuesday last the knot was tied

Tied hard and fast; that can not be denied.

I'm caught, I'm caged, from the law's point of

view,

Before two witnesses, good men and true.

I'm licensed, stamped: undo the deed who can; Three hundred francs made me a married

man.

Who would have thought it! Married! How? What for?

I who was ranked a strict old bachelor; I who through halls with married people crammed

Infused a kind of odor of the damned;

I who declined—and gave lame reasons why-
Five, six, good comfortable matches; I
Who every morning when I came to dress
Found I had one day more, and some hairs

less;

I whom all mothers slander and despise,
Because girls find no favor in my eyes-
Married! A married man!

Beyond-a

doubt!