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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 552 pages of information about Little Women.
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    “The Pickwick portfolio

    May 20, 18—–­

    Poet’s corner

    Anniversary Ode

    Again we meet to celebrate
    With badge and solemn rite,
    Our fifty-second anniversary,
    In Pickwick Hall, tonight.

    We all are here in perfect health,
    None gone from our small band: 
    Again we see each well-known face,
    And press each friendly hand.

    Our Pickwick, always at his post,
    With reverence we greet,
    As, spectacles on nose, he reads
    Our well-filled weekly sheet.

    Although he suffers from a cold,
    We joy to hear him speak,
    For words of wisdom from him fall,
    In spite of croak or squeak.

    Old six-foot Snodgrass looms on high,
    With elephantine grace,
    And beams upon the company,
    With brown and jovial face.

    Poetic fire lights up his eye,
    He struggles ’gainst his lot. 
    Behold ambition on his brow,
    And on his nose, a blot.

    Next our peaceful Tupman comes,
    So rosy, plump, and sweet,
    Who chokes with laughter at the puns,
    And tumbles off his seat.

    Prim little Winkle too is here,
    With every hair in place,
    A model of propriety,
    Though he hates to wash his face.

    The year is gone, we still unite
    To joke and laugh and read,
    And tread the path of literature
    That doth to glory lead.

    Long may our paper prosper well,
    Our club unbroken be,
    And coming years their blessings pour
    On the useful, gay ‘P.  C.’. 
    A. Snodgrass

________

    The masked marriage
    (A Tale Of Venice)

Gondola after gondola swept up to the marble steps, and left its lovely load to swell the brilliant throng that filled the stately halls of Count Adelon.  Knights and ladies, elves and pages, monks and flower girls, all mingled gaily in the dance.  Sweet voices and rich melody filled the air, and so with mirth and music the masquerade went on.  “Has your Highness seen the Lady Viola tonight?” asked a gallant troubadour of the fairy queen who floated down the hall upon his arm.

    “Yes, is she not lovely, though so sad!  Her
    dress is well chosen, too, for in a week she weds
    Count Antonio, whom she passionately hates.”

“By my faith, I envy him.  Yonder he comes, arrayed like a bridegroom, except the black mask.  When that is off we shall see how he regards the fair maid whose heart he cannot win, though her stern father bestows her hand,” returned the troubadour.
“Tis whispered that she loves the young English artist who haunts her steps,
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