clench her dimpled fists,
Or contradict her betters,
I'd manacle her tiny wrists
With dainty jewelled fetters.

And if she dared her lips to pout,
Like many pert young misses,
I'd wind my arm her waist about,
And punish her--with kisses!

_J. Ashby-Sterry._

AD CHLOEN, M.A.

FRESH FROM HER CAMBRIDGE EXAMINATION

Lady, very fair are you,
And your eyes are very blue,
And your hose;
And your brow is like the snow,
And the various things you know,
Goodness knows.

And the rose-flush on your cheek,
And your Algebra and Greek
Perfect are;
And that loving lustrous eye
Recognizes in the sky
Every star.

You have pouting piquant lips,
You can doubtless an eclipse
Calculate;
But for your cerulean hue,
I had certainly from you
Met my fate.

If by some arrangement dual
I were Adams mixed with Whewell,
Then some day
I, as wooer, perhaps might come
To so sweet an Artium
Magistra.

_Mortimer Collins._

CHLOE, M.A.

AD AMANTEM SUAM

Careless rhymer, it is true,
That my favourite colour's blue:
But am I
To be made a victim, sir,
If to puddings I prefer
Cambridge [pi]?

If with giddier girls I play
Croquet through the summer day
On the turf,
Then at night ('tis no great boon)
Let me study how the moon
Sways the surf.

Tennyson's idyllic verse
Surely suits me none the worse
If I seek
Old Sicilian birds and bees--
Music of sweet Sophocles--
Golden Greek.

You have said my eyes are blue;
There may be a fairer hue,
Perhaps--and yet
It is surely not a sin
If I keep my secrets in
Violet.

_Mortimer Collins._

THE FAIR MILLINGER

By the Watertown Horse-Car Conductor

It was a millinger most gay,
As sat within her shop;
A student came along that way,
And in he straight did pop.
Clean shaven he, of massive mould,
He thought his looks was killing her;
So lots of stuff to him she sold:
"Thanks!" says the millinger.

He loafed around and seemed to try
On all things to converse;
The millinger did mind her eye,
But also mound his purse.
He tried, then, with his flattering tongue,
With nonsense to be filling her;
But she was sharp, though she was young:
"Thanks," said the millinger.

He asked her to the theatre,
They got into my car;
Our steeds were tired, could hardly stir,
He thought the way not far.
A pretty pict-i-ure she made,
No doc