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“And how did you get here?” I asked, with interest proportioned to the importance of Toddie's last clause.

“Oh, I got up from the burn-down dead, an' comed right here. An' I want my dolly's k’adle.”

O persistent little dragon! If you were of age, what a fortune you might make in business!

“ Uncle Harry, I wish my papa would come home right away," said Budge.

“Why, Budge ?”

“ I want to love him for bein' so good to that poor little boy in the war."

“Ocken Hawwy, I wants my dolly's k'adle, tause my dolly's in it, an' I want to shee her;” thus spake Toddie.

“Don't you think the Lord loved my papa awful much for doin' that sweet thing, Uncle Harry ?" asked Budge.

“Yes, old fellow, I feel sure that he did.”

“Lord lovesh my papa vewy much, so I love ze Lord vewy much,” remarked Toddie. “An' I wants my dolly's k’adle an' my dolly."

“Toddie, I don't know where either of them are—I can't find them now-do wait until morning, then Uncle Harry will look for them."

“I don't see how the Lord can get along in heaven without my papa, Uncle Harry," said Budge.

“Lord takesh papa to heaven, an' Budgie an' me, and we'll go walkin' an' see ze Lord, an' play wif ze angels' wings, an' hazh good timsh, an' never have to go to bed at all, at all.”

Pure-hearted little innocents! compared with older people whom we endure, how great thy faith and how few thy faults ! How superior thy love

A knock at the door interrupted me. “ Come in !" I shouted.

In stepped Mike, with an air of the greatest secrecy, handed me a letter and the identical box in which I had sent the flowers to Miss Mayton. What could it mean? I hastily opened the envelope, and at the same time Toddie shrieked :

Oh, darsh my dolly's k'adle—dare tizh !” snatched and opened the box, and displayed—his doll! My heart sickened, and did not regain its strength during the perusal of the following note:

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“Miss Mayton herewith returns to Mr. Burton the package which just arrived with his card. She recognises the contents as a portion of the apparent property of one of Mr. Burton's nephews, but is unable to understand why it should have been sent to her. June 20, 1875."

“Toddie," I roared, as my younger nephew caressed his loathsome doll, and murmured endearing words to it, “where did you get that box?"

“On the hat-wack,” replied the youth, with perfect fearlessness, “ I keeps it in ze book-case djawer, an' somebody took it 'way, an' put nasty ole flowers in it."

" Where are those flowers ? " I demanded.

Toddie looked up with considerable surprise, but promptly replied

“I froed 'em away–don't want no ole flowers in my dolly's k'a dle. That's ze way she wocks--see !” And this horrible little destroyer of human hopes rolled that box back and forth with the most utter unconcern, as he spoke endearing words to the substitute for my beautiful bouquet!

To say that I looked at Toddie reprovingly is to express my feelings in the most inadequate language, but of language in which to express my feelings to Toddie I could find absolutely

Within two or three short moments I had discovered how very anxious I really was to merit Miss Mayton's regard, and how very different was the regard I wanted from that which I had previously hoped might be accorded me. It seemed too ridiculous to be true that I, who had for years had dozens of charming lady acquaintances, and yet had always maintained my common-sense and self-control ; I, who had always considered it unmanly for a nan to specially interest himself in any lady until he had an incɔme of five thousand a year; I, who had skilfully and many times argued that life-attachments, or attempts thereat, which were made without a careful preliminary study of the mental characteristics of the partner desired was the most unpardonable folly,—1 had transgressed every one of my own rules, and, as if to mock me for any pretended wisdom and care, my weakness was made known to me by a three-year-old marplot and a hideous rag doll !

none.

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William Allan Butler.

(Mr. Butler, who was born in 1825, wrote this poem in 1857, but beyond this he has published

nothing that has attracted public attention.)

NOTHING TO WEAR.

AN EPISODE OF CITY LIFE.

Miss FLORA M'FLIMSEY, of Madison Square,

Has made three separate journeys to Paris ;
And her father assures me, each time she was there,

That she and her friend, Mrs. Harris
(Not the lady whose name is so famous in history,
But plain Mrs. H., without romance or mystery),
Spent six consecutive weeks without stopping,
In one continuous round of shopping;
Shopping alone, and shopping together,
At all hours of the day, and in all sorts of weather ;
For all manner of things that a woman can put
On the crown of her head or the sole of her foot,
Or wrap round her shoulders, or fit round her waist,
Or that can be sewed on, or pinned on, or laced,
Or tied on with a string, or stitched on with a bow,
In front or behind-above or below :
For bonnets, mantillas, capes, collars, and shawls;
Dresses for breakfasts, and dinners, and balls;
Dresses to sit in, and stand in, and walk in ;
Dresses to dance in, and Airt in, and talk in ;
Dresses in which to do nothing at all ;
Dresses for winter, spring, summer, and fall ;
All of them different in colour and pattern-
Silk, muslin, and lace, crape, velvet, and satin ;
Brocade, and broadcloth, and other material,
Quite as expensive, and much more ethereal;
In short, for all things that could ever be thought of,
Or milliner, modiste, or tradesman be bought of,

From ten-thousand-francs robes to twenty-sous frills ;
In all quarters of Paris, and to every store,
While MʻFlimsey in vain stormed, scolded, and swore ;

They footed the streets, and he footed the bills.

The last trip, their goods shipped by the steamer Arago
Formed, M'Flimsey declares, the bulk of her cargo;
Not to mention a quantity kept from the rest,
Sufficient to fill the largest-sized chest,
Which did not appear on the ship's manifest,
But for which the ladies themselves manifested
Such particular interest, that they invested
Their own proper persons in layers and rows
Of muslins, embroideries, worked underclothes,
Gloves, handkerchiefs, scarfs, and such trifles as those.
Then, wrapped in great shawls, like Circassian beauties,
Gave GOOD-BYE to the ship, and GO-By to the duties.
Her relations at home all marvell’d, no doubt,
Miss Flora had grown so enormously stout

For an actual belle and a possible bride ;
But the miracle ceased when she turned inside out,

And the truth came to light, and the dry goods beside,
Which, in spite of collector and custom-house sentry,
Had enter'd the port without any entry.
And yet, though scarce three months have pass'd since the day
This merchandise went, on twelve carts, up Broadway,
This same Miss M‘Flimsey, of Madison Square,
The last time we met, was in utter despair,
Because she had nothing whatever to wear !
NOTHING TO WEAR ! Now, as this is a true ditty,

I do not assert—this, you know is between usThat she's in a state of absolute nudity,

Like Powers' Greek Slave, or the Medici Venus;
But I do mean to say, I have heard her declare,

When, at the same moment, she had on a dress,
Which cost five hundred dollars, and not a cent less,
And jewelry worth ten times more, I should guess,

That she had not a thing in the wide world to wear !
I should mention just here, that out of Miss Flora's
Two hundred and fifty or sixty adorers,
I had just been selected as he who should throw all
The rest in the shade, by the gracious bestowal
On myself, after twenty or thirty rejections,
Of those fossil remains which she called “her affections,"
And that rather decay'd, but well-known work of art,
Which Miss Flora persisted in styling "her heart.”
So we were engaged. Our troth had been plighted,

Not by moonbeam or starbeam, by fountain or grove,
But in a front parlour, most brilliantly lighted,

Beneath the gas fixtures we whisper'd our love. Without any romance, or raptures, or sighs, Without any tears in Miss Flora's blue eyes ; Or blushes or transports, or such silly actions, It was one of the quietest business transactions ; With a very small sprinkling of sentiment, if any, And a very large diamond imported by Tiffany, On her virginal lips while I printed a kiss, She exclaim'd, as a sort of parenthesis, And by way of putting me quite at my ease, “You know, I'm to polka as much as I please, And flirt when I like-now stop, don't you speakAnd you must not come here more than twice in the week, Or talk to me either at party or ball, But always be ready to come when I call; So don't prose to me about duty and stuff, If we don't break this off, there will be time enough For that sort of thing; but the bargain must be, That, as long as I choose, I am perfectly free; For this is a sort of engagement, you see, Which is binding on you, but not binding on me.”

Well, having thus woo'd Miss M'Flimsey and gain'd her,
With the silks, crinolines, and hoops that contained her,
I had, as I thought, a contingent remainder

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