But there _were_ those, as you'd suppose, who scorned that perfect gown; For ugly-grained old cats obtained in that New England town: The Widow White spat out her spite in one: "It doesn't fit!" The Packard girls (they wore false curls) all giggled like to split; Sophronia Wade, the sour old maid, _she_ turned a bilious green, When she descried that joy and pride, my grandma's bombazine. But grandma knew, and I did, too, that gown was wondrous fine,-- The envious sneers and jaundiced jeers were a conclusive sign. Why, grandpa said it went ahead of all the girls in town, And, saying this, he snatched a kiss that like to burst that gown; But, blushing red, my grandma said, "Oh, isn't grandpa mean!" Yet evermore my grandma wore _his_ favorite bombazine. And when she died that sombre pride passed down to heedless heirs,-- Alas, the day 't was hung away beneath the kitchen stairs! Thence in due time, with dust and grime, came foes on foot and wing, And made their nests and sped their guests in that once beauteous thing. 'Tis so, forsooth! Time's envious tooth corrodes each human scene; And so, at last, to ruin passed my grandma's bombazine. Yet to this day, I'm proud to say, it plays a grateful part,-- The thoughts it brings are of such things as touch and warm my heart. This gown, my dear, you show me here I'll own is passing fair, Though I'll confess it's no such dress as grandma used to wear. Yet wear it, _do_; perchance when you and I are off the scene, Our boy shall sing _this_ comely thing as _I_ the bombazine. RARE ROAST BEEF. WHEN the numerous distempers to which all flesh is heir Torment us till our very souls are reeking with despair; When that monster fiend, Dyspepsy, rears its spectral hydra head, Filling _bon vivants_ and epicures with certain nameless dread; When _any_ ill of body or of intellect abounds, Be it sickness known to Galen or disease unknown to Lowndes,-- In such a dire emergency it is my firm belief That there is no diet quite so good as rare roast beef. And even when the body's in the very prime of health, When sweet contentment spreads upon the cheeks her rosy wealth, And when a man devours three meals per day and pines for more, And growls because instead of three square meals there are not four,-- Well, even then, though cake and pie do service on the side, And coffee is a luxury that may not be denied, Still of the many viands there is one that's hailed as chief, And that, as you are well aware, is rare roast beef.