And after tea I stood before her, feeling
Now was the moment when the maid would melt,
My buttoned jacket helpfully revealing
The graces of a figure trimly svelte,
But, all unworthy to adorn a poet
Who'd bought it for a fabulous amount,
Just as I knelt to put the question, lo, it
Popped on its own account.
The button, dodging my attempts to hide it,
Rolled to her very feet and rested there,
And when I laid my loving heart beside it
She only smiled at that incongruous pair--
Smiled, then in contrite pity for the gloomy
Air that I wore of one whose chance is gone,
Promised that she would be a sister to me
And sew the button on.
* * * * *
A Test of Endurance.
"The dancing will commence at 9 p.m. and conclude at 2 p.m. Anyone
still wanting tickets may procure same at the Victoria."
_East African Paper._
For ourselves, after seventeen hours' continuous dancing, we shall not
want any more tickets.
* * * * *
From a parish magazine:--
"A nation will not remain virulent which destroys the barriers
which protect the Sunday.
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