“The second—wall, _I took_ the second one About the middle of the week she come; But telegraphed unto the Institute, ‘Send on some more; keep sending of ’em on.’ And so they kept a-comin’, but they kep’ A-going speedier than they arrove, For the third lady was abducted by A highwayman before she got to us— She took it awful kindly, I believe. And that is just about the time they go.” “But why,” exclaimed the wondering traveller, “Don’t you obtain a scareful, ugly one— Some hideous old faggot, just like that Tremendous terror with the lantern-jaws By yonder ticket-window? She would keep.” “Alas! how strange,” replied the Ancient Man; “How is it that you people from the East Will never understand us pioneers? That woman is my wife—the very one I cut away from school; and she’s by far The handsomest there was in all the drove. For that is just about the time they go.” A CALIFORNIAN ROMANCE Know’st thou the burning lay of Dante’s own, “_Nix mangiare é il diavolo!_ _Ma peggior la donna?_” that’s to say, “’Tis hard to be hard up, but harder still To get ahead of women.” Never much, While in Night’s cushion stars like pin-heads shine. Oh, listen to me, for the tale I tell Is of Chicago, and the latest out, And by the noble _Tribune_ novelist. “Say, do you mean it, honest Injun, now?” Said Vivian O’Riley to his sire. “And faith I do,” the earnest sire replied: “Marry this girl if so ye choose, me son, But—if ye do—the divil a ha’penny Of all me fortune will yees ever see, While in Night’s cushion stars like pin-hids shine.” Two hours have passed, and so have eight or ten Slow-rolling tramway cars, until there comes The one which Vivian wants, and soon it lands The lover at the door of Pericles O’Rourke, the father of _bellissima_, The Lady Ethelberta. Lo, she sits In her boudoir (the high-toned word for “room”), Casting her soul in reverie o’er the trees, While in Night’s cushion stars like pin-heads shine. “I have bad news for you, my utmost own,” Said Vivian in sad tones unto his love. “Cusses and crocuses upon my luck! And damns and daffodils on everything!” And as he spoke there came into his face A grey old scaly look which seemed to say, _Don’t bluff or you’ll be called_. “My dad and I Have had a round about, and he has dis— Sis—sis—inherited me; and I have Been given the g.-b. on your account, My be—b—beau—tiful. And I am now A beg—egg—eggar for you, Bertie dear! While in Night’s cushion stars like pin-heads shine. Her soft dusk eyes grew wide and serious.