Is famed for tales of little girls and boys Who all die out because they only feed On weak green tea and Bible;—she herself, Is better than her books; serene and kind, With all your charity, could not describe As man the thing that owns her, nor does she; Although she snubs her mother on the strength Of her dominion o'er his bunch of keys. So much for two; and what about the third? More cosmopolitan than that she breathed. And when we paused, and that was soon enough, She asked me, rather bluntly, what I thought Not seemed to think, but really thought, she said— Of dancing as a midnight exercise For creatures blessed with souls as well as brains? I gave a start, half-dreading, in my haste, A Calvinistic sermon, which to me Is certain dissolution; this she saw, And eagerly disclaimed a thought so rash. I told her then my fancy, which you know. She looked half-pleased. And as for you ?' I said. 'And as for me, I hate it,' she replied, With such a smile, and such a looking-up, And such emphatic motion of her heel, I could not doubt her truth. We danced no more, Attracting thus the more than muttered wrath With safes and oaken desks, and greasy shreds (I have one by me, meaning it to pass, An heirloom, to my dim posterity.) And so I made a friend. This all?' you ask; That not alone in cards and morning calls, Doth live the thing called friendship! Impious wretch, To use that word, that sin-suggester—' all !' Perhaps you did not; so my vials yet Shall keep their corks in and their capsules on Prepare me now a lodging; which implies The notes of Mr. Pickwick, that my mind I I LETTER II. GERTRUDE TO A FRIEND. From a country town: Jan. 3, 18-2. A THOUSAND thanks, dear, for your tiny note; But do not think of that; a word from you Was pleased for me to get it. When you feel I know that I am always dear to you, Of your epistle! Really is it true That Julia is immutably engaged, And to a coronet? at least to what May some day be one? Quite I understand My very kindest love; you know at school We always called her countess. As for me (That phrase is quite an heirloom in our house; |