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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which I dedicate to the late Political Convention, as embodying the principles there adopted, with this difference, that, while their Resolutions have no point, my resolution enables me to make two points in every line.

While I’m not in the proverb business, I have a couple on hand that are getting mouldy, so I send ’em along.

“Once go to grass, and your enemies will soon make a hey-day over you.”

“Get all you can, and can all you get.”

But that reminds me of a Beautiful Tale:—­

Deacon K——­ lacked the confidence of the inhabitants of M——.  He was most sincerely detested for his hypocrisy and double-dealing, and so very unpopular, that a few wags conceived the idea of drawing up a paper requesting him to leave town.