Life — November 27, 1884 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ARS AMANDI. HE gave her head a saucy toss, Looked sternly prim and haughty. . I do n't like Cupid when he 's cross, Nor Prudence when she's naughty ; And so I left without a word And tried my rage to stifle— I must confess my heart was stirred E’en by so small a trifle. I sauntered off across the room For cool and calm reflection, — And tried to clear away the gloom By pleasant recollection Of Prudence in some bygone time When, bending low, she listened To hear my sentimental rhyme,— *T was thus I had it christened. I watched her walking down and up,— A painful aggravation ! I kept on watching till my cup Was full of indignation. She leaned to other lovers’ chaff,— Weak, vapid stuff, and senseless, And when I heard her happy laugh I felt myself defenceless. She knew, indeed, I was her slave Although I'd never told her ; Then why did Prudence so behave Unless to make me bolder ? 1 asked to wander home with her,— She changed her whole demeanor ! And all at once looked prettier Than I had ever seen her. And as we walked, her arm in mine, And chatted on together,— It seemed the stars began to shine, Too bright for autumn weather I drew her close, beginning : “ Prue,"— She raised her snowy fichu And said: “ You sober darling, you, Lean down and let me kiss you!” IDLE IDYLLER. INCE the publication of “John Bull and His Island” the English laws concerning “M.-O'Rell literature” have been strictly enforced. OCKS with openworked heels and toes will be worn by bachelors as heretofore. V E no longer sing “'T is but a little faded flower.” It now is: “*T is button-hole bouquet.” SOCIAL TORTURES. No. 4. * HERE is a deep hush in the big school-room, al- though it is crowded with the fathers, mothers, and the pretty sisters of each boy and the other boys’ pretty sisters. Through the open windows the sweet June breeze blows in, sweeping the school- room stuffiness from the nooks of the room; the ladies’ fans sweep to and fro with a gentle susur- tus ; the boys seated in a corner upon long settees, fidget uneasily and long for the exhibition to be over. Jamie has just spoken such a nice piece; Jamie is the boy who is always dressed so neatly, who goes through his steps so prettily at dancing school and who brings fruit and flowers to his teacher at school where he always stands at the head of his class, holds up his hand as a sign of eager intelligence when aclass-mate stumbles in recitation, and shows many other indications of gaining success and hatred in after-life. Thereis a gentle murmur of applause, as he gives his grace- ful bow, on finishing his declamation; he enunciated so dis- tinctly the fragment from Everett's oration. And now the audience, looking at the programme, read “SPEECH OF MARULLUS TO THE ROMANS.” Welliam Shakespeare. — Thomas McElroy. Thomas is seated among the boys, red-faced and trembling, his eyes popping out of his head, with suppressed emotion. OH! HORROR! HE CAN REMEMBER THE FIRST LINE ONLY. He knew his piece so well, when he declaimed it to his ‘mother last night, but now,—Oh ! horror! he can remember the first lines only !