r Catskin did dance.

"Pray tell me," said he, "where you live?"
For now 'twas the parting-time;
But she no other answer would give,
Than this distich of mystical rhyme,--

[Old English Script:
Kind Sir, if the truth I must tell,
At the sign of the Broken-Ladle I dwell.]

Then she flew from the ball, and put on
Her Catskin robe again;
And slipt in unseen by the cook,
Who little thought where she had been.

My lord did again, the next day,
Declare to his mother his mind,
That he never more happy should be,
Unless he his charmer should find.

Now another grand ball is to be,
Where ladies their beauties show;
"Mrs. Cook," said Catskin, "dear me,
How much I should like to go!"

"You go with your Catskin robe,
You impudent, dirty slut!
Among the fine ladies and lords,
A very fine figure you'd cut."

In a fury she took the skimmer,
And broke poor Catskin's head;
But heart-whole and lively as ever,
Away to her forest she fled.

She washed the stains of blood
In some crystal waterfall;
Then put on her most beautiful dress,
And hasted away to the ball.

My lord, at the ball-room door,
Was waiting with pleasure and pain;
He longed to see nothing so much
As the beautiful Catskin again.

When he asked her to dance, she again
Said "Yes!" with her first smiling glance;
And all the night long, my young lord
With none but fair Catskin would dance.

"Pray tell me, fair maid, where you live?"
For now was the parting-time;
But she no other answer would give,
Than this distich of mystical rhyme,--

[Old English Script:
Kind Sir, if the truth I must tell,
At the sign of the Broken-Skimmer I dwell.]

Then she flew from the ball, and threw on
Her Catskin cloak again;
And slipt in unseen by the cook,
Who little thought where she had been.

But not by my lord unseen,
For this time he followed too fast;
And, hid in the forest green,
Saw the strange things that past.

Next day he took to his bed,
And sent for the doctor to come;
And begg'd him no other than Catskin,
Might come into his room.

He told him how dearly he lov'd her,
Not to have her his heart would break:
Then the doctor kindly promised
To the proud old lady to speak.

There's a struggle of pride and love,
For she fear'd her son would die;
But pride at the