“I hope you’ll allow I look fetching like this, (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese!_) A Dairymaid’s dress suits me sweetly, I wis. (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese!_) Just twig my short petticoats, look at my pail! The bards are all ready a Milkmaid to hail! I mean making prettiness pay,――shall I fail? (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese!_) “You’ve been to the Dairy Show, Sir, have you not? (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese!_) Those churners competitive were a sweet lot. (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese!_) Miss HOLMES, and Miss KEEL, and Miss BARRON, who won, Seemed not a bit fagged when the business was done. I’m sure Butter-making _looks_ capital fun. (_Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese!_)” * * * * * ―――― A CHRISTMAS WAIL. (_Not by Dante Gabriel Rossetti._) On Christmas day I dined with Brown. (_O the dinner was fine to see!_) I drove to his house, right merrily down To a western square of London town. (_And I moan and I cry woe’s me!_) We dined off turkey and Christmas beef; (_O the dinner was fine to see!_) My anguish is sore and my comfort brief, And nought but blue pills can ease my grief, (_As I moan and I cry woe’s me!_) We gorged plum-pudding and hot mince pies, (_O the dinner was fine to see!_) And other nameless atrocities, The weight of which on my――bosom lies. (_And I moan and I cry woe’s me!_) We drank dry Clicquot and rare old port, (_O the dinner was fine to see!_) And I pledged my host for a right good sort In bumpers of both, for I never thought (_I should moan and I cry woe’s me!_) * * * * * But I woke next day with a fearful head, (_O that dinner so fine to see!_) And on my chest is a weight like lead, And I frequently wish that I were dead, (_And I moan and I cry woe’s me!_) And as for Brown――why the truth to tell―― (_O that dinner so fine to see!_) I hate him now with the hate of hell, Though before I loved him passing well, (_And I moan and I cry woe’s me!_) _Truth._ December 27, 1883. ――――