Of muslins, embroideries, worked under-clothes, For an actual belle and a possible bride; But the miracle ceased when she turned inside out, And the truth came to light, and the dry-goods beside; Which, in spite of Collector and Custom-House sentry, Had entered the port without any entry. And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the day This merchandise went, on twelve carts, up Broadway, This same Miss M'Flimsey, of Madison Square, The last time we met was in utter despair, NOTHING TO WEAR! Now, as this is a true ditty, I do not assert-this, you know, is between us— Like Powers' Greek Slave, or the Medici Venus; I should mention just here, that out of Miss Flora's I had just been selected as he who should throw all On myself, after twenty or thirty rejections, Of those fossil remains which she called her "affections," Not by moonbeam or starbeam, by fountain or grove, "You know I'm to polka as much as I please, And flirt when I like-now, stop, do n'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 do n't prose to me about duty and stuff, If we do n'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,- Which is binding on you, but not binding on me." Well, having thus wooed Miss M'Flimsey and gained her, 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 Stuckup's grand ball,- 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 She turned as I entered,-" Why, Harry, you sinner, I thought that you went to the Flashers' to dinner! "So I did," I replied, "but the dinner is swallowed, And digested, I trust, for 't is now nine and more, Your beauty, and graces, and presence to lend (All of which, when I own, I hope no one will borrow) To the Stuckups, whose party, you know, is to-morrow?" The fair Flora looked up, with a pitiful air, And answered quite promptly, "Why, Harry, mon cher, Wear the dress you have on, and you 'll be by far, On the Stuckup horizon-" I stopped, for her eye, Of scorn and amazement. She made no reply, But gave a slight turn to the end of her nose, (That pure Grecian feature,) as much 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; (Second turn up of nose)-"That 's too dark by a shade." 'Your blue silk "That 's too heavy." "Your pink" "That's too light." "Wear tulle over satin "-"I can't endure white." "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 dressmaker Has had it a week."-" Then that exquisite lilac, In which you would melt the heart of a Shylock; (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," Said the lady, becoming excited and flushed. "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, And both the bright eyes shot forth indignation, As she burst upon me with the fierce exclamation, "I have worn it three times, at the least calculation, And that and most of my dresses are ripped up!” Here I ripped out something, perhaps rather rash, Quite innocent, though; but, to use an expression More striking than classic, it "settled my hash," And proved very soon the last of our session. "Fiddlesticks, is it, sir? I wonder the ceiling Does n't fall down and crush you,—you men have no feel ing; You selfish, unnatural, illiberal creatures, But you do not believe me," (here the nose went still higher.) "I suppose, if you dared, you would call me a liar. Our engagement is ended, sir,—yes, on the spot; You're a brute, and a monster, and-I do n't know what." Were brought up all at once by a torrent of tears, Well, I felt for the lady, and felt for my hat, too, Poked my feet into slippers, my fire into blaze, "Supposing a man had the wealth of the Czar Of the Russias to boot, for the rest of his days, On the whole do you think he would have much to spare, If he married a woman with nothing to wear?" Since that night, taking pains that it should not be bruited |