« VorigeDoorgaan »
He ought to do it. 'Tis a shame
To spoil my sport." Then Cupid ran
Eager to overtake the man :
His feet were swift; he reached him soon,
And in soft accents craved his boon.
“I have a favor to implore,
Kind sir, of you. I have no more
Gold arrows; and 'tis now the mode'
To be quite proof against the wood,
But you can make them all the go,'
If you will but oblige me so,
As to stand still. I'll hurt, I know,
A little bit; but, here below,
One always has to suffer pain
For what is a decided gain;
And when the first keen pang is 'oer,
I know you'll thank me evermore :
Your heart, I own, is very tough ;
But then, if I stand close enough,
And by some blows drive in the dart,
When once it's lodged within your heart
I really think I'll make you smart.
Come now! Do say you'll let me try,"
Said coaxing Cupid, with a sigh.
The poor man fidgeted awhile;
Then answered, with a nervous smile :
“Well, Cupid-aw—I'll let you see
Precisely how it stands with me.
What with the flow'rs a fellah sends,
In party season, to his friends;
With champagne suppers, concerts, plays,
The opera, and other ways
Of spending money, one runs through
One's cash, and hardly makes it do.
I can't keep up with the cravats,
Nor with the latest things in hats ;
Horses now cost so much that I
Keep but one pair; cigars are high,
And then you know one's in a mannaw
Compelled to smoke the best Havannaw.
Don't talk to me of a poor wife!
What! spend the best years of one's life
Cooped up within some baby house,
Dining off scraps-like any mouse ?
And then to be in love, too! aw-
'Twould really be too great a boaw!
Doesn't a man feel shaky—eh?
And cold, and warm, and ev'ry way
At once? 'Tis even said he feels
At last no appetite for meals !
No, Cupid, no! I'm sure you'll see
You're asking far too much of me.
I might consent, if girls spent less,
Than now, upon their idol dress.
We men economize, you know;
But with these women 'tis not so.
The silly creatures must suppose
They're valued by us for their clothes.
My conscience leads me to condemn
The follies which I see—in them.
Well, they have but themselves to thank
If they're old maids. There goes Miss Blank-
It really is a monstrous pity
She wears such clothes! Here, in the city
Beauty itself is scarce worth while,
Unless accompanied by style.
'Tis said her family are poor;
But she might spend a little more.
Why, if she did, she'd be a belle !
So much depends on dressing well;
But I must make a call-which way
Do you go? Down? Well, then, good-day!"
The little god, transfixed with grief,
Would in his tears have sought relief,
But that he saw a maid approach
(About to step into her coach),
Whom all men honored as a belle-
Who was both good and kind as well.
Her dimpled charms encouraged Love,
Who coaxed (as was described above)
And begged her hard to let him try
To pierce her heart; then asked her why
She should for golden arrows sigh?
“What! do you take me for a fool?
Or for a girl just fresh from school?''
The injured damsel did reply-
“Though you know Paris hats are high,
And velvet costs immensely nigh
Twice what it did, you ask this? fie!
Cupid, when you're as old as I,
You will not need to question why!"
She turned to step into her coach,
After a glance of stern reproach,
Then stopped (her heart with pity bled
To see the tears young Cupid shed);
“'Tis not worth while,” she said, and smiled,
“To be put out with such a child.”
Then laid her jeweled hand, so fair,
Right gently on his sunny hair,
And smoothed it with a sister's care,
Wishing (so envious are girls)
That she could rob him of his curls.
“Dear, if you've used your golden darts,"
She cried, “then cease to sport with hearts;
You're far too young for that game. Pray
Amuse yourself some other way,
Go with some other boys to play."
She stooped to give the child a kiss,
Then called her groom. “Your orders, Miss”
(Answered the footman, bowing low-
“Where do you next intend to go?”.
“ Open the carriage door. I'll stop,"
She said, “at the first dry-goods shop!"
As to poor Love, he did not play
With other boys; but went away
Alone, and had a little cry;
Then wiped the tear-drop from his eye
Right manfully, and said: “I'll hie
Into the country—there to try
My fortunes. Surely, in the hearts
Of simple folk I'll drive my darts."
Then, with his eager little feet,
He threaded through the crowded street.
At last he saw the fields ahead,
When on, with greater zeal he sped,
Until he trod on flowers sweet,
And crushed out perfumes with his feet.
As through a field his pathway lay,
Two lassies tripped a little way
Ahead; and he o'erheard one say
Shaking her head with earnest frown,
“No, no! I'll never wed a clown,
But some rich gentleman from town;
One who will buy me a new gown
Whene'er I choose, and let his bride
Drive in a carriage by his side."
Poor Cupid listened to no more;
His dimpled feet were tired and sore,
And all his hopes of sport were o'er.
So in despair his form he flung
The grasses and the flow'rs among.
Oh! bitter tears the child did weep;
At last he sobbed himself asleep,
And sleeping still he doth remain.
I wonder when he'll wake again!
Some time ago we heard from Japan that its brilliant young despot had devised a religion for his empire, if not for the world, which should satisfy all conditions and by its simplicity commend itself to every one. Later reports show that the Mikado has learnt by his contact with the subject that it is by no means a simple one. A deputation of priests has been sent out to study the faiths
of the rest of the world and report what they see. If these gentlemen are “credible persons with eyes,” the report will be of very great interest to us outsiders, but most likely the absence of any true critical faculty in its authors will deprive it of all value. These childish intellects of the far East are the last people in the world to pronounce a just judgment upon a problem so complex and difficult, that many of the greatest minds of civilization gave it up in despair.
We congratulate the city and its chief library company upon the decision of Judge Mercur, that even if the company have accepted the bequest of Dr. Rush, they are not bound to put up their new building at Broad and Christian, whatever the executor of the will may say. The institution would have been buried out of sight at that distance, a quarter of a mile below the old city line and in the direction in which the growth of the city is slightest. Far better secure a site on North Broad street, near the new Academy of the Fine Arts.
At a time when we are patiently looking on at the destruction of local independence in parts of the Union, Prussia is taking steps to establish local self-government. The great reforms of Stein, the establishment of popular education, land-banks and tenant-right laws, and the abolition of the remnants of serfdom, have done their work in the last fifty years. The bauer of our day is another man than the one that Stein found; he has geist and cultur ; he owns his own land and reads the Kreutz-zeitung. He cannot be kept any longer in the tutelage that seemed natural enough, when the junkers, the raths and the pfarrer were the only persons in the parish that knew how the world went on. Even Bismarck sees that the change must come and prepares for it accordingly. He has even broken definitively with the landed aristocracy of the Herrenhaus rather than leave them in their old position of local autocracy. In so doing he has subjected them to a series of humiliations that they will never forgive ; aristocracies have long memories, and the chancellor has probably forever lost his prestige as the real head of the Reich, the man who could practically unite all parties in the prosecution of a vigorour policy.