With the wrong vices I'm indued, And the wrong virtues too; My motives he has misconstrued As only he could do. I read the copy sheet by sheet As it issues from his pen, And this, this travesty complete Will be my doom from men! I've wrestled hard with psychic force-- It is in vain, in vain! His nerves were ever tough and coarse, Impervious his brain. Ah, could a merely psychic spell Ignite an earthly match! Or could a hand impalpable Material "copy" snatch! I'm as incompetent as mist The enemy to rack. Ah, if a spiritual fist An earthly eye could black! A paper-weight it lies below, It cannot be dispersed! The publisher will never know _Who_ read that copy first! His gliding pen, for all my hate, Has never gone awry; "All rights reserved," they'll calmly state, O'er me. And here am I! * * * * * GUESSES AT GOODWOOD. (_By a Transatlantic Cousin, according to English ideas._) That I shall get puppar to take me and mother down in real style. That we will wake up sleepy old Europe, and show these insolent insulars that we are above small potatos. That I shall cut out the Britisher Misses, and make their mummars sit up. That I shall take care that luncheon is not neglected, and see that all my party, like the omnibuses, are full inside. That I shall think very small of the races, so long as I get my boxes of gloves. That I shall do credit to the best society of Boston and the seminaries of New York by speaking through my nose a mixture of slang and nonsense. That I shall call his Grace of Canterbury "Archbishop," and any owner of strawberry leaves "Duke." That I shall wear a gown trimmed with diamonds, and have my parasols made of net and precious stones. That I shall conceal the fact that puppar made his money out of the sale of wooden nutmegs and mother's aunt was a laundress. That I shall flirt with a Duke at the Races, marry him at St. George's, and give up for ever the stars and stripes. P.S. (_by a Transatlantic Cousin, according to American ideas_).--I shall continue to wonder at an English girl's notions of her kinswomen when there are so many charming specimens of refined Columbian gentlewomen resettled in the old home of the Anglo-Saxon race. * * * * * [Illustration: "THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE," &c. SCENE--_Hounds on drag of Otter, which has turned up small tributary stream._