When the moon gits between the earth and the sun, then we alwus have an eclipse. I beleave that a kind Providence, the arktekt ov men, monkeys and things, haz given me and mi wife two paths to travell, side by side, and both ending at the same goal. Sum think that the lives ov the sexes are a mere competition, that what one iz both may be, i shall beleave this when the roze bush bears butternuts and the thistle sheds perfume. Amung charakteristicks so butiful, it would be strange if we shouldn’t find a variety, sum even that are unlovely, for perfeckshun don’t inhabit this world, not even in the disguize ov a woman. Thare is two patches in the paradise ov the female garden, that is devoted to the culture of two funny, and very contrary vegatables, one is lokated in the south east corner of the heart, and the other at the northern, or frigid end. [Illustration: COQUETT AND PRUDE.] The southern crop is coquetry, and the northern one is prudery. Sumtimes these patches are cultivated more assidiously, to the neglekt ov awl the rest, and form the staple crop of the heart. Coquetry is the cussidness ov an artful pashun, that feels its oats just enuff to want to kick up all the time, and don’t seem to care who gits hurt. It lays in wait, in its butiful wrought net, like a spider for its viktim, and seems to take more fun in ketching a fly, than in keeping him. A coquett is a good deal like a rare bush, in the springtime of life it is full of flowers, and in the fall, full of thorns. Thare are sum blossoms that are fore-runners of fruit, but the fragrant glory of a coquett is not of this breed. This pashun iz like avarice, it eats up all the other good ones, and spends its old age, racked with the horrors of an ill digestion. Coquetts are generally long lived, faded emblems of viktorys without honour, mournful az a cypruss, chanting their own dirges. Prudery iz nothing more than the tropikal fruits of the hearts gardens raized at the north end ov it, prudes, and coquets, are the extremes of the same pashuns, and the philosophers tell us, that “extremes meet.” A prude skorns tew make a conquest, not upon principle, but bekause she kant, she hates a man with her love. A prude iz nothing more than an ill looking coquet, give the prude buty, and yer have got a coquet, and the bitterest prudes the world ever saw, are the old, and battle worn coquets, who are too decrepid to take the field. Coquets, and prudes, ought tew be compelled to hunt in couples, so that when the coquet haz wounded the game, the prude kan nuss the dieing viktim. But prudes and coquetts never agree; two ov a trade seldom do. Both ov these pashuns are disgusting, and the old age ov both iz bitterness. Prudery iz the remorse ov cunning that haz been foiled; and coquettry seems to be the abandon ov art and buty. Prudes owe mutch ov their success to their inability to find enny temptashuns, and coquetts are made more viscious by flatterys.