Part 40 (1/2)

_Unknown._

CATEGORICAL COURTs.h.i.+P

I sat one night beside a blue-eyed girl-- The fire was out, and so, too, was her mother; A feeble flame around the lamp did curl, Making faint shadows, blending in each other: 'Twas nearly twelve o'clock, too, in November; She had a shawl on, also, I remember.

Well, I had been to see her every night For thirteen days, and had a sneaking notion To pop the question, thinking all was right, And once or twice had make an awkward motion To take her hand, and stammer'd, cough'd, and stutter'd, But, somehow, nothing to the point had utter'd.

I thought this chance too good now to be lost; I hitched my chair up pretty close beside her, Drew a long breath, and then my legs I cross'd, Bent over, sighed, and for five minutes eyed her: She looked as if she knew what next was coming, And with her feet upon the floor was drumming.

I didn't know how to begin, or where-- I couldn't speak--the words were always choking; I scarce could move--I seem'd tied to the chair-- I hardly breathed--'twas awfully provoking!

The perspiration from each pore came oozing, My heart, and brain, and limbs their power seem'd losing.

At length I saw a brindle tabby cat Walk purring up, inviting me to pat her; An idea came, electric-like at that-- My doubts, like summer clouds, began to scatter, I seized on tabby, though a scratch she gave me, And said, ”Come, Puss, ask Mary if she'll have me.”

'Twas done at once--the murder now was out; The thing was all explain'd in half a minute.

She blush'd, and, turning p.u.s.s.y-cat about, Said, ”p.u.s.s.y, tell him 'yes'”; her foot was in it!

The cat had thus saved me my category, And here's the catastrophe of my story.

_Unknown._

LANTY LEARY

Lanty was in love, you see, With lovely, lively Rosie Carey; But her father can't agree To give the girl to Lanty Leary.

Up to fun, ”Away we'll run,”

Says she, ”my father's so contrary.

Won't you follow me? Won't you follow me?”

”Faith, I will!” says Lanty Leary.

But her father died one day (I hear 'twas not by dhrinkin' wather); House and land and cash, they say, He left, by will, to Rose, his daughter; House and land and cash to seize, Away she cut so light and airy.

”Won't you follow me? Won't you follow me?”

”Faith, I will!” says Lanty Leary.

Rose, herself, was taken bad; The fayver worse each day was growin'; ”Lanty, dear,” says she, ”'tis sad, To th' other world I'm surely goin'.

You can't survive my loss, I know, Nor long remain in Tipperary.

Won't you follow me? Won't you follow me?”

”Faith, I won't!” says Lanty Leary.

_Samuel Lover._