n she had to coax and pout
In order to get him to take her out,
She thought how very attentive and bright
He seemed at the party that winter's night;
Of his laugh, as soft as a breeze of the south,
('Twas now on the other side of his mouth);
How he praised her dress and gems in his talk,
As he took a careful account of stock.

Sometimes she hated the very walls--
Hated her friends, her dinners, and calls;
Till her weak affection, to hatred turned,
Like a dying tallow-candle burned.
And for him who sat there, her peace to mar,
Smoking his everlasting cigar--
He wasn't the man she thought she saw,
And grief was duty, and hate was law.
So she took up her burden with a groan,
Saying only, "I might have known!"

Alas for Kate! and alas for Fudge!
Though I do not owe them any grudge;
And alas for any who find to their shame
That two can play at their little game!
For of all hard things to bear and grin,
The hardest is knowing you're taken in.
Ah, well! as a general thing, we fret
About the one we didn't get;
But I think we needn't make a fuss,
If the one we don't want didn't get us.

_Phoebe Cary._

Mandalay

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', an' I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, an' the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier: come you back to Mandalay!"
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

'Er petticut was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat--jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her fust a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot;
Bloomin' idol made o' mud--
Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd--
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay--

When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' low,
She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "_Kul-la-lo-lo_!"
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' her cheek agin my cheek
We useter watch the steamers and the _hathis_ pilin' teak.
Elephints a-pilin' teak
In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was arf afraid to speak!
On the r