_Unknown._

CATEGORICAL COURTSHIP

I sat one night beside a blue-eyed girl-- The fire was out, and so, too, was her mother; A feeble flame around the lamp did curl, Making faint shadows, blending in each other: 'Twas nearly twelve o'clock, too, in November; She had a shawl on, also, I remember.

Well, I had been to see her every night For thirteen days, and had a sneaking notion To pop the question, thinking all was right, And once or twice had make an awkward motion To take her hand, and stammer'd, cough'd, and stutter'd, But, somehow, nothing to the point had utter'd.

I thought this chance too good now to be lost; I hitched my chair up pretty close beside her, Drew a long breath, and then my legs I cross'd, Bent over, sighed, and for five minutes eyed her: She looked as if she knew what next was coming, And with her feet upon the floor was drumming.

I didn't know how to begin, or where-- I couldn't speak--the words were always choking; I scarce could move--I seem'd tied to the chair-- I hardly breathed--'twas awfully provoking!

The perspiration from each pore came oozing, My heart, and brain, and limbs their power seem'd losing.

At length I saw a brindle tabby cat Walk purring up, inviting me to pat her; An idea came, electric-like at that-- My doubts, like summer clouds, began to scatter, I seized on tabby, though a scratch she gave me, And said, "Come, Puss, ask Mary if she'll have me."

'Twas done at once--the murder now was out; The thing was all explain'd in half a minute.

She blush'd, and, turning p.u.s.s.y-cat about, Said, "p.u.s.s.y, tell him 'yes'"; her foot was in it!

The cat had thus saved me my category, And here's the catastrophe of my story.

_Unknown._

LANTY LEARY

Lanty was in love, you see, With lovely, lively Rosie Carey; But her father can't agree To give the girl to Lanty Leary.

Up to fun, "Away we'll run,"

Says she, "my father's so contrary.

Won't you follow me? Won't you follow me?"

"Faith, I will!" says Lanty Leary.

But her father died one day (I hear 'twas not by dhrinkin' wather); House and land and cash, they say, He left, by will, to Rose, his daughter; House and land and cash to seize, Away she cut so light and airy.

"Won't you follow me? Won't you follow me?"

"Faith, I will!" says Lanty Leary.

Rose, herself, was taken bad; The fayver worse each day was growin'; "Lanty, dear," says she, "'tis sad, To th' other world I'm surely goin'.

You can't survive my loss, I know, Nor long remain in Tipperary.

Won't you follow me? Won't you follow me?"

"Faith, I won't!" says Lanty Leary.

_Samuel Lover._

THE SECRET COMBINATION

Her heart she locked fast in her breast, Away from molestation; The lock was warranted the best-- A patent combination.

She knew no simple lock and key Would serve to keep out Love and me.

But Love a clever cracksman is, And cannot be resisted; He likes such stubborn jobs as this, Complex and hard and twisted, And though we worked a many day, At last we bore her heart away.

For Love has learned full many tricks In his strange avocation; He knew the figures were but six In this, her combination; Nor did we for a minute rest Until we had unlocked her breast.

First, then, we turned the k.n.o.b to "Sighs,"

Then back to "Words Sincerest,"

Then "Gazing Fondly in Her Eyes,"

Then "Softly Murmured 'Dearest;'"

Then, next, "A Warm Embrace" we tried, And at "A Kiss" the door flew wide.

_Ellis Parker Butler._

FORTY YEARS AFTER

We climbed to the top of Goat Point hill, Sweet Kitty, my sweetheart, and I; And watched the moon make stars on the waves, And the dim white ships go by, While a throne we made on a rough stone wall, And the king and the queen were we; And I sat with my arm about Kitty, And she with her arm about me.

The water was mad in the moonlight, And the sand like gold where it shone, And our hearts kept time to its music, As we sat in the splendour alone.

And Kitty's dear eyes twinkled brightly, And Kitty's brown hair blew so free, While I sat with my arm about Kitty, And she with her arm about me.

Last night we drove in our carriage, To the wall at the top of the hill; And though we're forty years older, We're children and sweethearts still.

And we talked again of that moonlight That danced so mad on the sea, When I sat with my arm about Kitty, And she with her arm about me.

The throne on the wall was still standing, But we sat in the carriage last night, For a wall is too high for old people Whose foreheads have linings of white.

And Kitty's waist measure is forty, While mine is full fifty and three, So I can't get my arm about Kitty, Nor can she get both hers around me.

_H. H. Porter._

CUPID

Beauties, have ye seen this toy, Called love, a little boy Almost naked, wanton, blind, Cruel now, and then as kind?

If he be amongst ye, say!

He is Venus' runaway.

He hath of marks about him plenty; Ye shall know him among twenty; All his body is a fire, And his breath a flame entire, That, being shot like lightning in, Wounds the heart, but not the skin.