(_Whose "Fringe" has fallen off at a Ball._)
Alas! those waving curls,
That parting on your brow,
Had been some other girl's!
"Vhere ish dot barting now?"
Like BREITMANN'S barty gone
Avay in _ewigkeit_,
Those curls which you put on
To grace the ball to-night.
Too feeble were the pins,
Too frisky were your hops;
Derisive are the grins,
Departing parting drops.
A parting, this, that shocks
Beholders evermore;
You dare not claim those locks
Now lying on the floor.
I used to think them fair,
I find them false instead;
If thus you lose your hair,
I shall not lose my head.
Nor certainly my heart--
With that I should not care
So readily to part
As you with purchased hair.
We kick those curls aside.
Your looks and locks have fled,
Then hasten home to hide
Your much diminished head.
* * * * *
DON PEDRO D'ALCANTARA LE COMTE D'EU is eighteen. He is pursuing his
studies at a Military Academy, speaks German fairly well, and in his
leisure hours is, we are informed, "studying Polish." The latter being
acquired, he will become a most polish'd Prince. He is so very well
off that he will not have to go to Brazil for a crown.
* * * * *
[Illustration: DOMESTIC THRIFT.