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Will sure afford a much more free
Mode of communication.
In making love by letter:
And generally better!
H. C. BUNNER.
“ POSSUM”-I CAN.
HER eyes are as blue as the heart of a berg;
If tears from their channels e'er ran,
For sorrows of love or of man.
I've wondered ofttimes—she's so frostily fair
If blood in her veins really ran ; While sipping an ice I've asked myself where
Ice ended and woman began.
“My heart,” she once told me, “is dead as
a stone, Or missing in Nature's nice plan; Some women, perhaps, can not live without
hearts," Her eyes spoke a haughty “I can."
The stingiest sultan would lay at her feet
The wealth of a whole Ispahan. Independent in fortune as well as in soul,
She scorns every suppliant man.
Her coach, of all turn-outs this year at the
Her motto is “ Possum”-I can.
Regarding the carriage with critical air
Up-spoke our head-waiter, black Dan : “Some folks, maybe, can't see no difference
between Dat ting and a 'possum--I can.
Why, dat ain't no 'possum; it's more like a
cat, Or Spot, dar, your pert black-and-tan: I ought to know 'possums—I'se hunted 'em
till Each 'possum in Georgia knows Dan.
“ Curusest ob varmints dar is in dis world
Is 'possums and women,” said Dan; “Dey's nebber so sleek, so indif'rent, and
cool, As when dey's deceibing some man.
“I'members de fust one dat ever I cotched
It tried de same little ole plan:
Says I, No dead'possums for Dan'
“Was walking away when it opened one eye,
Larfed back ob its paw, and den—ran! • Can't come it,' it said, plain as eber you
heard ; Says I, 'Missus 'Possum, I can.'”
The tale was a short one, and not too refined,
As told by our swart Caliban:
The fire of my hopes like a fan.
And craving the love of a man,
thought? My heart made me answer—“I can.” Her soul is alive, and now tell me, my heart,
Canst rise to the fate like a man, Receiving thy doom or thy bliss from her
lips? Again I heard, “ Possum-I can." “ You can love?" The answer is easily
guessed (Fit rallying-cry for a clan), It came with a kiss, and a ring with the crest A leopard : 'twas “ Possum-I can!”
LIZZIE W. CHAMPNEY.
PAST AND PRESENT; OR, ROMANCE
HE (shutting his Froissart with a slap).
When, true to knightly duty,
To win the smile of Beauty !
In place of ball-rooms choky,
Instead of hoops at croquet!”
SHE (smiling maliciously).
'Mid Syria's heat and slaughter,
And long for seltzer-water!