Fetch them, Annette!" What, madam, those?
Children! such exquisite belles and beaux:--
True, they're in somewhat shorter clothes
Than the most of Dame Fashion's supporters.

Good day, Master Eddy! Young man about town,--
A merchant down in the swamp's son;
In a neat little book he makes neat little bets:
He doesn't believe in the shop cigarettes,
But does his own rolling,--and has for his pets
Miss Markham and Lydia Thompson.

He and his comrades can drink champagne
Like so many juvenile Comuses;
If you want to insult him, just talk of boys' play,--
Why, even on billiards he's almost _blasé_,
Drops in at Delmonico's three times a day,
And is known at Jerry Thomas's.

And here comes Miss Agnes. Good morning! "_Bon jour!_"
Now, isn't that vision alarming?
Silk with panier, and puffs, and lace
Decking a figure of corsetted grace;
Her words are minced, and her spoiled young face
Wears a simper far from charming.

Thirteen only a month ago,--
Notice her conversation:
Fashion--that bonnet of Nellie Perroy's--
And now, in a low, confidential voice,