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Next day to that 'twas common chat,
Admitting no debate,

A bonnet close beside a hat

Was sitting on a gate.

A month, not more, had bustled o'er,
When, braving nod and smile,
One blushing soul came through the door
Where two went up the aisle.

It happened so-precisely so

As all their friends and neighbours know

Frederick Langbridge.

EYES OF BLACK AND EYES OF BLUE

(From the Viceroy)

NE day I swear by the eyes of black,
The next by the eyes of blue;

ΟΝ

'Tis in merry black eyes that the love-light lies,

But the blue are more apt to be true. The dusky-eyed maid has a laughing look That can make you the world forget, my boy; But the gentle blue eye never causes a sigh, And it rarely denotes the coquette, my boy.

Eyes of black or eyes of blue,

Devil a bit does it matter I say!

If I love one to-day, why to-morrow I may Have a caprice for the brown or the gray.

So here is a toast to the feminine host, The blue eyes for me or the black for you.

The one for a time I shall think sublime, And then if you like I will change with you.

One day I sing of the raven curls,
The next of the ringlets fair.

Be mine the brunette of the tresses jet,
Mine the Hebe of golden hair.

For the gypsy-like maid has a heart that's warm,
You are lucky indeed if you're hers, my boy;
But there's many a blonde can be equally fond,
If you're only the one she prefers, my boy.

Raven hair or hair of gold,

Devil a bit does it matter I say!

If I love one to-day, why to-morrow I may Have a caprice for the auburn gay;

So here is a toast to the feminine host, Blond ringlets for me and the black for you. The one for a time I shall think sublime, And then if you like I will change with you.

Harry B. Smith.

HER FAULTS

(From the Mandarin)

Y sweetheart has her faults in plenty,

MY Which I perceive with much distress;

For instance, she is only twenty,
And one would think her even less;
While I may mention it between us-
(Excuse the confidence betrayed)—
Her form is plagiarized from Venus,
And no acknowledgment is made.
Her hair is much too fine and curly;
Her lips are merely Cupid's bow;
Her teeth absurdly white and pearly;
But still we all have faults, you know.

So, spite of this and spite of that,
Whate'er betide, whate'er befall,
These things let others cavil at;

I love my sweetheart, faults and all.

From such defects this little lady
Of mine is anything but free.
Her lashes are "extremely shady,"

Her eyes are "much too deep for me."
Two dimples have been thought too many
For one small maiden to possess.

Her rivals wish she hadn't any;

But what's a dimple more or less?
Her voice attracts o'er much attention
Because of its melodious ring.

Her foot-but that I shall not mention—
It's such a very little thing.

Yes, spite of that and spite of this,
Whate'er betide, whate'er befall,
Though others may perfection miss,
I love my sweetheart, faults and all.

Harry B. Smith.

A MODERN DIALOGUE

SCENE-On Manhattan Island. Time-To-day.
Hour-Ten-thirty. Persons of the play:
SIBYL. A dream of beauty, half awake,
In filmy disarray-about to take

Her morning tub. In speech with her the while
Is ROBERT. He is dressed in riding style.

SIBYL-Why, Bob, it's you! They got your name all wrong.

I'm sorry that I made you wait so long.

BOB- Only six minutes by my watch—it's true
A minute seems a year, awaiting you!
But Time is merciful and I rejoice
That I am still alive to hear your voice.

SIBYL-A very pretty speech, for you, indeed.
But what extenuation can you plead
For waking ladies at the break of day
From peaceful slumbers, sir!

BOB

SIBYL

BOB

SIBYL

BOB

Oh, come, I say!

It's half-past ten!

Well, it was nearly three

Before I got to bed!

Good gracious me!

I'm sure I'd no idea it was so late.
Why, I was riding in the Park at eight
And looked for you. I own I felt abused;
Last night you said—

I beg to be excused

From keeping foolish promises, when made
At two A. M., by moonlight. I'm afraid
My memory's no better than a sieve.
So you expected me? The Lord forgive
Your trusting soul!

It is His metier!

SIBYL-Don't be outrageous, or I'll run away. BOB- Ah, no; don't go. I will be good, I swear! 'Twas a quotation, Heine, or Voltaire,

SIBYL

Or some fool cynic fellow. By the way,
If you have nothing on, what do you say
To breakfasting with Peg and me at noon
At the Casino?

Well, that's rather soon;
I can't be ready for an hour or more.

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