A meek young gentleman approached her seat, His gloves were split, his waistcoat buttons false; She gazed an instant at his clumsy feet, Then sneered, “I do not valse!”
I saw a pic-nic by the river side, On scarlet rugs one sat, apart from man, Queenlike she was, dark-haired and dreamy-eyed, Hat-bound with astracan.
A melancholy captain in the line Drew near at last to pour forth all his heart; She turned, “A thousand pardons, friend of mine, Where is my cherry-tart?”
A maid, blue-stockinged, broke the silence drear, And flashing forth a winning smile, said she, “’Tis long since I have seen a man. Come here, Play croquet now with me.”
She “spooned,” and cheated, and had ankles thick, I let her win, the game was such a bore, Her bright ball quivered at the coloured stick-- Touched,--and we played no more.
I turning saw a couple newly wed; She--lately fond of flirting, and a belle-- Now contradicted every word he said, And bullied him as well.
She said, “Oh! bother business; really, dear, You’ve no more feeling for me than a stone; I wish my kind mamma lived somewhere near-- I won’t be left alone!”
I was cut off from hope in such a place! An evening party whence I dared not roam, My sister held her hand before her face, I longed to be at home.
I strove to stir, but I was victimized To talk to dowagers; between the sets Two voiceless females, old and undersized, Chirp’d Mendelssohn’s duets.
But soon my eyes were turned towards a stage-- This was an awful sight, it haunts me yet-- I saw a lady, of uncertain age, Burlesquing Juliet.
I saw a spectacled, but wild mamma, Coaxing her daughter with a fair-haired lad; Then, hearing he made nothing, frowned; and, ah! Called the young man “a cad.”
I heard old maids take characters away; I saw young ladies dress like men and smoke; An authoress next read a five-act play, ’Twas wicked, and I woke.
1.--_Early Pie-ety._ 2.--_The Mother’s Pet._ 3.--_Rough Weather off the Coast of Devon._ 4.--_A Shady Pool._ 5.--_A Village Style._ 6.--_The Mace-bearer._ 7.--_Summer._ 8.--_Spring._
A FEW SUGGESTIONS FOR THE ROYAL ACADEMY CATALOGUE. (1868.)]
Our artist takes advantage of the utter prostration of the poor sick passengers, and fills his sketch-book.]
