A front of Jove, an eye of fire;
But should he say he loves like me,
I'd, like Apollo, _strike the lyre_.
He says, he at your feet will throw
His all; and, if his vows are steady,
He cannot equal me--for, oh!
I've given you all I had, already.

Mary, I had a second suit
Of clothes, of which the coat was braided;
Mary, they went to buy that flute
With which I thee have serenaded.
Mary, I had a beaver hat,
Than this I wear a great deal better;
Mary, I've parted too with that,
For pens, ink, paper--for this letter.

* * * * *


PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE.

Dear PUNCH,--Will you inform me whether the review of the troops noticed
in last Saturday's _Times_, is to be found in the "Edinborough,"
"Westminster," or "Quarterly."

Yours, in all mayoralties,
PETER LAURIE.

P.S.--What do they mean by