ngularly fine type of
countenance.

"Oh yes, thanks! Crawling on."

"Any news?"

"None, I think, except that I've broken with Kitty."

I laughed.

"I knew you'd have to!" I said. "Did I not say so from the first? I
felt sure you could never stand her!"

"I am rather sorry, for she was very pretty; but the last straw she put
upon me was too much. I couldn't--after that--no, I couldn't, really."

"What was it?" I said, laughing, as he shook his head dubiously and
looked meditatively into the fire.

"Why, I sent her a sonnet--at least, no, a verse--and we were talking
about it afterwards, I had written--"

'And leaning sideways, looks, and lifts
The tresses of her heavy hair.'

"See?"

I nodded.

"Well, she objected to the adjective 'heavy,' and wanted me to insert
another. What word do you think she suggested?"

"Can't say at all. Golden, perhaps!"

"Worse!" he answered, with a groan. "Golden is hackneyed but still
conceivable. No--Crimpy! my dear fellow! Think of it!"

I went into a fit of laughter.

"Heavens! well I must say I never should have thought of that," I said.
"What a fearful girl. And what did you say?"

"Say! I tried to explain to her the awfulness of it, the incongruity,
but no, she couldn't see it! We jawed about it for a couple of hours
with the result that our engagement is now off!"

"Good. I am very glad to hear it; but perhaps a Breach of Promise will
come on?"

"Can't help it. Anything would be better than to go through life with a
girl who didn't feel there are some things no fellar can do; and one of
them, that he can't put a word like crimpy in his sonnet."

"Been doing any work?"

"Yes; one poem. Like to see it?"

"Very much."

He got up and went to a table littered all over with papers--written,
printed, and blank. After a time he extracted the one he wanted, handed
it to me, and then flung himself into the chair again.

"Whew! This title won't do. 'The Hermaphrodite!' That's far too
alarming for the British public."

"Oh, bother! Well, go on. Read the poem."

I did so in silence.

"First-rate," I said, when I had finished. "Not a weak line in it. Not
a single weak line. And there's nothing to prevent its being taken even
in this d----d England, I think. The title's the worst part. You'll
have to alter that."

"Why? Swinburne has a poem, 'Hermaphroditus.'"

"Yes--in a volume; and there it's Latinised; and then Swinburne has
made his name, which