She sought the grim refreshment stall-- The saucy barmaid long had slept; O'er biscuit, bun, and sandwich small The shining beetles slowly crept. Hard by a signal post alway Shot coloured beams into the dark. She called the porter to remark, In tones the opposite of gay: "The hour is late, the night is dreary-- It cometh not," she said; Then mentally: "The man is beery-- I would I were in bed." About the middle of the night She heard the shrill steam-whistle blow, And saw the signals gleaming bright; And from dark pens the oxen's low Came to her; but she watched with pain A train with many a cattle van Sweep past her, and the signal man Reversed his lamps, and snoozed again. She only said, "The night is dreary-- It cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary, Of lamps, green, white, and red!" The tired officials kept aloof, The telegraphic wires did sound Their notes Æolian on the roof, And goods trains shunting did confound Her sense; yet still she waited on, Until the porter came in sight-- "There is no other train to-night; The next will stop at early dawn." She only said, "I am aweary; It seems to me," she said, "Your tables, like yourself, are beery-- Go find me now a bed." * * * * * THE WEDDING DRESS. In picturesque confusion lies Her scattered finery on the floor, And here and there her handmaid flies With parcels to increase the store. But dolefully she paced the room, Although it was her wedding morn, And often spoke in tones of scorn, And brow of ever-deepening gloom. She only said, "The morn is dreary;" "It cometh not," she said. She said, "The milliner is weary, Or stayed too late in bed." She hears the sound of pipe and drum, And from the window looketh she: Nodding their heads before her come The merry Teuton minstrelsy, Who wait to play "The Wedding March." A member of the "force" stalks by, And little urchins mocking cry, "Oh, ain't he swallowed lots o' starch?" She laughed not, for she heard a chime: "Eleven o'clock!" she said. "I wonder if 'twill be in time? I would that I were wed." How swiftly now the minutes pass. With ribbons, laces, pins, and thread-- With peeps into the looking-glass, And tossings of the pretty head. Full half an hour of anxious strife; But still no wedding dress is there To decorate the form so fair Of her who would be made a wife. "Three quarters!" cried she weeping--weary. "It cometh now!" they said. The maiden looked no longer dreary, But hastened to be wed. From _Funny Folks_. * * * * *