81
Old Photographs 83
"_Le Dernier Jour d'un Condamne_" 85
Christmas Greens 88
Lake Mahopac--Saturday Night 91
Matinal Musings 95
A Romance of the Sawdust 99
Pyrotechnic Polyglot 105
Fishing 108
_Nocturne_ 111
_Auto-da-Fe_ 113
An Afterthought 117
_Reductio ad Absurdum_ 120
The Mothers of the Sirens 122
_Per Aspera ad Astra_ 124
The Language of Love 126

Transcriber's Note: Possible typos and irregularities in
indentation and word usage have been left as found in the
original. There are places where punctuation may not have
been correctly picked up by the scanning software; please
consult another source if you require complete accuracy.

RETROSPECTION.

I'd wandered, for a week or more,
Through hills, and dells, and doleful green'ry,
Lodging at any carnal door,
Sustaining life on pork, and scenery.
A weary scribe, I'd just let slip
My collar, for a short vacation,
And started on a walking trip,
That cheapest form of dissipation--

And vilest, Oh! confess my pen,
That I, prosaic, rather hate your
"Ode to a Sky-lark" sort of men;
I really am not fond of Nature.
Mad longing for a decent meal
And decent clothing overcame me;
There came a blister on my heel--
I gave it up; and who can blame me?

Then wrote my "Pulse of Nature's Heart,"
Which I procured some little cash on,
And quickly packed me to depart
In search of "gilded haunts" of fashion,
Which I might puff at column rates,
To please my host and meet my reckoning;
"Base is the slave who"--hesitates
When wealth, and pleasure both are beckoning.

I sought; I found. Among the swells
I had my share of small successes,
Made languid love to languid belles
And penn'd descriptions of their dresses.
Ah! Millionairess Millicent,
How fair you were! How you adored me!
How many tender hours we spent--
And, oh, beloved, how you bored me!
APRIL, 1871.

Is not