and travel-tattered,--
Next November, limping, battered.
Now the goodly ships are shattered,
Far at sea, on rock and reef.

Last of all the shrunk December
Cowled for age, in ashen gray;
Fading like a fading ember,--
Last of all the shrunk December.
Him regarding, men remember
Life and joy must pass away.

TWO SERMONS.

Between the rail of woven brass,
That hides the "Strangers' Pew,"
I hear the gray-haired vicar pass
From Section One to Two.

And somewhere on my left I see--
Whene'er I chance to look--
A soft-eyed, girl St. Cecily,
Who notes them--in a book.

Ah, worthy GOODMAN,--sound divine!
Shall I your wrath incur,
If I admit these thoughts of mine
Will sometimes stray--to her?

I know your theme, and I revere;
I hear your precepts tried;
Must I confess I also hear
A sermon at my side?

Or how explain this need I feel,--
This impulse prompting me
Within my secret self to kneel
To Faith,--to Purity!

"AU REVOIR."

A DRAMATIC VIGNETTE.

SCENE.--_The Fountain in the Garden of the Luxembourg. It is surrounded
by Promenaders._

MONSIEUR JOLICOEUR.
A LADY (_unknown_).

M. JOLICOEUR.
'Tis she, no doubt. Brunette,--and tall:
A charming figure, above all!
This promises.--Ahem!

THE LADY.
Monsieur?
Ah! it is three. Then Monsieur's name
Is JOLICOEUR?...

M. JOLICOEUR.
Madame, the same.

THE LADY.
And Monsieur's goodness has to say?...
Your note?...

M. JOLICOEUR.
_Your_ note.

THE LADY.
Forgive me.--Nay.
(_Reads_)
"_If Madame_ [I omit] _will be_
_Beside the Fountain-rail at Three,_
_Then Madame--possibly--may hear_
_News of her Spaniel._ JOLICOEUR."
Monsieur denies his note?

M. JOLICOEUR.
I do.
Now let me read the one from you.
"_If Monsieur Jolicoeur will be_
_Beside the Fountain-rail at Three,_
_Then Monsieur--possibly--may meet_
_An old Acquaintance. 'INDISCREET_.'"

THE LADY (_scandalized_).
Ah, what a folly! 'Tis not true.
I never met Monsieur. And you?

M. JOLICOEUR (_with gallantry_).
Have lived in vain till now. But see:
We are observed.

THE LADY. (_looking round_).