"Sure is it Pierrette yez are, Pierrette and no other? (Och, Pierrette, me heart is broke that ye shud be that same--) Pertendin' to be Frinch, an' me yer poor ould Irish mother That named ye Bridget fer yer aunt, a dacent Dublin name! Ye that was a pious girrl, decked out in ruffled collars, With yer hair that docked an' frizzed--if Father Pat shud see! Dancin' on a piece o' grass all puddle-holes an' hollers, Amusin' these quare folk that's called a Pote-Society!" _But it was Bridget Sullivan,_ _Her locks flour-sprent,_ _That danced beneath the flowering tree_ _Leaping as she went._ "If there's folk to stare at ye ye'll dance for all creation (Since ye went to settlements 'tis little else I've heard), Letting yer good wages go to chat of 'inspiration,' Flappin' up an' down an' makin' out yez are a burrd! Sure if ye got cash fer it 'tis little I'd be sayin' (Och, Pierrette, stenographin' 'tis better wage ye'll get,) Sorra wan these long-haired folk has spoke till ye o' payin', Talkin' of yer art, an' ye a leppin' in the wet!" _But it was Bridget Sullivan,_ _Her head down-bent,_ _Went back on the three-thirteen,_ _Coughing as she went._ _William Griffith_ (Who felt for her.) PIERRETTE REMEMBERS AN ENGAGEMENT Pierrette has gone--but it was not Exactly that she lied; She said she had to catch a train; "I have a date," she cried. To keep a sudden rendezvous It came into her mind As quite the quickest way to flee From parties of this kind; She went most softly and most soon, But still she made a stir, For, going, she took all the men To town along with her. _Edgar Guest_ (Who has an air of absolute belief in the True, the Optimistic, and the Checkbook. He seems yet a little ill at ease among the others, and to be looking about restlessly for Ella Wheeler Wilcox.) AIN'T NATURE WONDERFUL! How dear to me are home and wife, The dear old Tree I used to Love, The Pear it shed on starting life And God's Outdoors so bright above! For Virtue gets a high reward, Noble is all good Scenery, So I will root for Virtue hard, For God, for Nature, and for Me! [Illustration] _Don Marquis_ (Who, it appears, refers to departments which he and certain of his friends run in New York papers. He swings a theoretical barrel of hootch above his head, and chants:) THE MEETING OF THE COLUMNS Chris and Frank and I Each had a column; Chris and I were plump and gay, But not so F.P.A.: F.P.A. was solemn-- Not so his Column; That was full of wit, As good as My Column Nearly every bit! We sat on each an office chair And all snapped our scissors; Their things were pretty fair But all of mine were Whizzers!