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At last, an untimely thrust from the Englishman's rapier settled the business. The Frenchman fell-dropped his swordand whistled in slower, slower measure and broken accents, for the last time, his little melody.
Reader, I have no doubt that you have heard, ere now, the opera of "Lucia di Lammermoor," and can well recall the dying struggles and perishing notes of Edgardo
Se di-vi-si fummo in ter-ra,
Ne cong-iun-ga ne congiung-a il Nume in ciel!
And so it was with our poor Frenchman, who panted forth, game to the last—
"Oh-but g-'g-'gold is a chi-mera!
M-'m-'mon-ey but a fleeee"
And here -borne on the wings of a last expiring whistle-his soul took its flight.
Not a word had been spoken by either of the combatants! _"Meister Karl's Sketch-Book.
William Allen Butler
Nothing to Wear
MISS FLORA M'FLIMSEY, of Madison Square,
(Not the lady whose name is so famous in history,
Shopping alone, and shopping together,
At all hours of the day, and in all sorts of weather,
In short, for all things that could ever be thought of,
From ten-thousand-franc robes to twenty-sous frills;
While M'Flimsey in vain stormed, scolded, and swore,
The last trip, their goods shipped by the steamer Arago
Of muslins, embroideries, worked underclothes,
Gloves, handkerchiefs, scarfs, and such trifles as those; Then, wrapped in great shawls, like Circassian beauties,
Gave good-by to the ship, and go by to the duties.
Her relations at home all marveled, no doubt,
Miss Flora had grown so enormously stout
For an actual belle and a possible bride;
But the miracle ceased when she turned inside out,
And the truth came to light, and the dry-goods be
Which, in spite of Collector and Custom-house sentry,
Had entered the port without any entry.
And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the
This merchandise went, on twelve carts, up Broadway,
This same Miss M'Flimsey of Madison Square,
The last time we met was in utter despair,
Because she had nothing whatever to wear!
Nothing to wear! Now, as this is a true ditty,
Like Powers's Greek Slave or the Medici Venus;
I should mention just here, that out of Miss Flora's
I had just been selected as he who should throw all
On myself, after twenty or thirty rejections,
Of those fossil remains which she called her "affections,"
And flirt when I like-now, stop, don't you speak—
And you must not come here more than twice in the
Or talk to me either at party or ball,
But always be ready to come when I call;
So don't prose to me about duty and stuff,
If we don't break this off, there will be time enough
For that sort of thing; but the bargain must be
That, as long as I choose, I am perfectly free
For this is a kind of engagement, you see,
Which is binding on you, but not binding on me.”
Well, having thus wooed Miss M'Flimsey and gained her, With the silks, crinolines, and hoops that contained her,
I had, as I thought, a contingent remainder
At least in the property, and the best right
And it being the week of the Stuckups' grand ball-
And see if Miss Flora intended to go.
I found her as ladies are apt to be found,
When the time intervening between the first sound
She turned as I entered-"Why, Harry, you sinner,