With two loaves of bread then they fed it, instead Of the flesh of the white Cockatoo, Which once was its food in that wild neighborhood Where ranges the sweet Kangaroo, That too Is game for the famous Emeu! Old saws and gimlets but its appetite whets, Like the world-famous bark of Peru; There's nothing so hard that the bird will discard, And nothing its taste will eschew That you Can give that long-legged Emeu! The time slipped away in this innocent play, When up jumped the bold Montague: "Where's that specimen pin that I gayly did win In raffle, and gave unto you, Fortescue?" No word spoke the guilty Emeu! "Quick! tell me his name whom thou gavest that same, Ere these hands in thy blood I imbrue!" "Nay, dearest," she cried, as she clung to his side, "I'm innocent as that Emeu!" "Adieu!" He replied, "Miss M. H. Fortescue!" Down she dropped at his feet, all as white as a sheet, As wildly he fled from her view; He thought 'twas her sin,--for he knew not the pin Had been gobbled up by the Emeu; All through The voracity of that Emeu! MRS. JUDGE JENKINS (BEING THE ONLY GENUINE SEQUEL TO "MAUD MULLER") Maud Muller all that summer day Raked the meadow sweet with hay; Yet, looking down the distant lane, She hoped the Judge would come again. But when he came, with smile and bow, Maud only blushed, and stammered, "Ha-ow?" And spoke of her "pa," and wondered whether He'd give consent they should wed together. Old Muller burst in tears, and then Begged that the Judge would lend him "ten;" For trade was dull, and wages low, And the "craps," this year, were somewhat slow. And ere the languid summer died, Sweet Maud became the Judge's bride. But on the day that they were mated, Maud's brother Bob was intoxicated; And Maud's relations, twelve in all, Were very drunk at the Judge's hall. And when the summer came again, The young bride bore him babies twain; And the Judge was blest, but thought it strange That bearing children made such a change; For Maud grew broad and red and stout, And the waist that his arm once clasped about Was more than he now could span; and he Sighed as he pondered, ruefully, How that which in Maud was native grace In Mrs. Jenkins was out of place; And thought of the twins, and wished that they Looked less like the men who raked the hay On Muller's farm, and dreamed with pain Of the day he wandered down the lane. And looking down that dreary track, He half regretted that he came back; For, had he waited, he might have wed Some maiden fair and thoroughbred;