[Illustration: Page 35.] Your subject, and don't again begin it Till you tell us: What did Charity wear? Was her dress of _moire antique_, or satin; Or was it plain muslin--just like that in Which love-lorn maidens on the stage Go raving crazy?--and had she a page? Did she wear hoops? and what sort of a bonnet? And tell us, what kind of trimming was on it? What--" Stop, stop, dear ladies, it isn't fair To question thus closely a modest young man. If I _could_ tell the items, I would, I declare; For I always oblige you whenever I can. I know that of dresses she has a variety, Though vanity's not her predominant passion, She was costumed, no doubt, with the greatest propriety, In the very extreme of the reigning fashion. Well! she stopped to listen, a minute or more, To the fellow's mischievous harangue, before She resolved what to do; then she stepped to the door Of an Astor Place car, and beckoned to him, And he followed at once, while his audience scattered; To tell the truth, he felt quite flattered, And he smiled a smile most heavy and grim, For he thought he'd awakened a tender passion In the heart of a belle, a lady of fashion. And they sat side by side, this curious pair, While they rode up to Eighth street--and she paid the fare. * * * * * They stepped from the car, and stood before, The "COOPER INSTITUTE'S" new-painted door-- * * * * * "Who hath done this?" asked Charity then; "Who hath done this for his fellow-men? Hath builded this house, that all may come-- The poor most welcome--to Learning's treasure, And drink their fill without stint or measure? Who hath so nobly used his thrift, And bestowed on the world this priceless gift, Free to all, whoever may come? Was this noble work built up by the 'masses,' Or by one of the 'miserly, upper classes'?" * * * * * To the Spirit, this speech was quite unexpected, And he stood in a sort of stupid dismay; And before his few scattered thoughts were collected, She rightly concluded--he'd Nothing to Say. Then she lifted her skirts with a masterly hand, And out of the puddles and ruts kept them well up,-- Thus showed that she had the most perfect command Of the crinoline mysteries of her envelope, 'Twas done with the daintiest grace all the while, And discovered the daintiest possible gaiter,-- Then she turned to her friend with a nod and a smile, And told him to follow--he straightway obeyed her. As they hurried along, she kept ever before him, And he kept his eye on the tempting prunella, Secretly hoping there'd come such a shower As would make a new Flood in half-an-hour-- That she, with a womanly care for her bonnet, Which would "spot," with the least drop of water upon it, [Illustration: Page 39.]