-

And flirt when I like-now, stop, don't you speak And you must not come here more than twice in the week,

Or talk to me either at party or ball, But always be ready to come when I call;

So don't prose to me about duty and stuff,

If we don't break this off, there will be time enough

For that sort of thing; but the bargain must be

That, as long as I choose, I am perfectly free, For this is a kind of engagement,

Well, having thus wooed Miss M'Flimsey and gained her,

With the silks, crinolines, and hoops that contained her,

I had, as I thought, a contingent remainder

At least in the property, and the best right

To appear as its escort by day and by night;

And it being the week of the Stuckups' grand ball,

Their cards had been out a fortnight or so,

And set all the Avenue on the tiptoe,

I considered it only my duty to call, And see if Miss Flora intended to go. I found her -as ladies are apt to be found,

When the time intervening between the first sound

Of the bell and the visitor's entry is shorter

Than usual-I found; I won't say
I caught her,
Intent on the pier-glass, undoubtedly
meaning

To see if perhaps it did n't need cleaning.

She turned as I entered

Harry, you sinner,

"Why

I thought that you went to the Flashers' to dinner!"

"So I did," I replied, "but the din ner is swallowed,

And digested, I trust, for 't is now nine and more,

So, being relieved from that duty, I followed

Inclination, which led me, you see, to your door;

And now will your ladyship so condescend

As just to inform me if you intend Your beauty, and graces, and presence to lend

(All

To

And

of which, when I own, I hope no one will borrow) the Stuckups', whose party, you know, is to-morrow?"

fair Flora looked up, with a pitiful air,

quite promptly,

answered
"Why, Harry, mon cher,

I should like above all things to go with you there,

But really and truly — I've nothing to wear."

"Nothing to wear! go just as you are;

Wear the dress you have on, and you'll be by far,

I engage, the most bright and particular star

On the Stuckup horizon-" I stopped, for her eye, Notwithstanding this delicate onset of flattery,

Opened on me at once a most terrible battery

Of scorn and amazement.
made no reply,

She

But gave a slight turn to the end of her nose,

(That pure Grecian feature,) as much as to say, "How absurd that any sane man should suppose

That a lady would go to a ball in the clothes,

No matter how fine, that she wears every day!"

So I ventured again; "Wear your crimson brocade;' "That's

(Second turn up of nose) too dark by a shade."

heavy. "Your pink"

"That's too light,"

Wear tulle over satin".

endure white."

"I can't

Your rose-colored, then, the best of the batch "

I have n't a thread of point-lace to match."

"Your brown moire antique” · "Yes, and look like a Quaker;" "The pearl-colored "-"I would, but that plaguy dress-maker "Then that

Has had it a week."

exquisite lilac,

In which you would melt the heart of a Shylock;"

i Here the nose took again the same elevation)

"I would n't wear that for the whole

of creation."

"Why not? It's my fancy, there's nothing could strike it As more comme il faut"-"Yes, but dear me, that lean Sophronia Stuckup has got one just like it,

And I won't appear dressed like a chit of sixteen."

"Then that splendid purple, that sweet Mazarine;

That superb point d'aiguille, that imperial green,

That zephyr-like tarletan, that rich grenadine" "Not one of all which is fit to be seen," [flushed. Said the lady, becoming excited and "Then wear," I exclaimed, in a tone

which quite crushed Opposition," that gorgeous toilette which you sported

In Paris last spring, at the grand presentation, When you quite turned the head of the head of the nation, And by all the grand court were so very much courted." The end of the nose was portentously tipped up,

least calculation, And that and most of my dresses

are ripped up!"

And both the bright eyes shot forth

On

indignation,

doorstep and sidewalk, past lamppost and square,

As she burst upon me with the fierce exclamation,

At

home and up stairs, in my own easy-chair;

Resolved to trace so wondrous an

event,

Whip, to the third, the virtuoso went;

Sir and so forth-Why, yes; the thing is fact,

Though in regard to number, not exact;

It was not two black crows, 'twas only one,

The truth of that you may depend

upon,

The gentleman himself told me the

case

Where may I find him?-Why, in such a place.

Away goes he, and having found

him out,

Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt. Then to his last informant he re

ferred,

And begged to know, if true what he had heard?

Did you, sir, throw up a black crow? -Not I

Bless me! how people propagate a lie! Black crows have been thrown up, three, two, and one; And here, I find, all comes, at last, to none!

Did you say nothing of a crow at ali?

Crow -crow-perhaps I might, now I recall

The matter over- And, pray, sir, what was't?

Why, I was horrid sick, and, at the last,

I did throw up, and told my neighbor

So,

Something that was - as black, sir,

as a crow.

CARELESS CONTENT.

I AM content, I do not care,

Wag as it will the world for me; When fuss and fret was all my fare, It got no ground as I could see: So when away my caring went, I counted cost, and was content.

Of ups and downs, of ins and outs, Of they're i' the wrong, and we're i' the right,

I shun the rancors and the routs;
And wishing well to every wight,
Whatever turn the matter takes,
I deem it all but ducks and drakes.

Nor if the folks should flout me,

faint:

If wonted welcome be withdrawn,

I cook no kind of a complaint: With none disposed to disagree, But like them best who best like

me.

Not that I rate myself the rule

How all my betters should behave;

But fame shall find me no man's fool,

Nor to a set of men a slave:
I love a friendship free and frank,
And hate to hang upon a hank.

Fond of a true and trusty tie,

I never loose where'er I link; Though if a business budges by,

I talk thereon just as I think; My word, my work, my heart, my hand,

Still on a side together stand.

I love my neighbor as myself,

Myself like him too, by his leave; Nor to his pleasure, power, or pelf, Came I to crouch, as I conceive: Dame Nature doubtless has designed

A man the monarch of his mind.

Now taste and try this temper, sirs, Mood it and brood it in your breast;

Or if ye ween, for worldly stirs,
That man does right to mar his
rest,

Let me be deft and debonair,
I am content, I do not care.