N, EH?--ABEL WHITE
MAN?--HOW! HOW! CAIN GET ABEL'S SCALP--GOOD!"]

* * * * *

VENUS AND ADONIS

An Eclogue of the Period.

(Respectfully dedicated to the ladies of the Free-love Pantarchy.)

_Venus._

Adonis, sweet, hide not thy blushing face:
What terrors masculine thy soul abash?
And why with boyish pout dost mar the grace
Of maiden lip and innocent moustache?

_Adonis._

O you dry up! I tell you. I'll be cussed
If I'm a-going to stand such pesky bother
From you strong-minded gals. And, what's the wust,
I darn't touch ye.--G'long, 'r I'll tell your mother!

_Venus._

And feel'st thou then no solemn intuition--
No subtle psychological vibration--
Or instant, full, spontaneous recognition
Of my pantarchic self-annunciation?

For love is free, and mutual reaction
Of kindred organisms airily
Subsists and ceases, as 't gives satisfaction:
We change with changes of affinity.

_Adonis._

Now just look here, you don't sponge no love free
At this here shop: it's stealing,--that's the sin it is!
What's more, too, if you want to hang 'round _me_
You'd better just play light on them affinities!

* * * * *

A LETTER FROM THE "HUB."

THE BOSS TOWN OF NEW ENGLAND,

October 1870 times.

DEAR PUNCHINELLO: Hailing (not to say reigning) from this august (and
all the year round) place, I naturally feel privileged to pour my
troubles into your ears, with doubts as to their length. [Length of
what, troubles or ears?--ED.]

The fact is, no man was ever treated so badly or so seldom as I have
been. Others have "waked up" and found themselves famous. I've practised
waking for years, and never found myself in fame, or anything else,
excepting energetic "tailors' bills," and an occasional square meal.

Thirsting for renown, I have coined my wealth of brains into one
transcending effort, and amid much travail of genius, and travel of paw
to pate, have produced the following

ORIGINAL LINES,

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