(_LATEST VERSION_.)
[It is said that the price of wheat and the marriage-rate go
together, most people getting married when wheat is highest.]
My pretty JANE, my dearest JANE,
Ah, never look so shy,
But meet me, meet me in the market,
When the price of wheat rules high.
The glut is waning fast, my love,
And corn is getting dear;
Good (Hymen) times are coming, love,
Ceres our hearts shall cheer.
Then pretty JANE, though poorish JANE,
Ah, never pipe your eye,
But meet me, meet me at the Altar,
For the price of wheat rules high!
Yes, name the day, the happy day,
I can afford the ring;
For corn rules high, the marriage rate
Mounts up like anything;
The "quarter" stands at fifty, love,
Which, for Mark Lane is dear.
Our wedding day is coming, love,
Our married course is clear.
Then, pretty JANE, if poorish JANE,
Ah, never look so shy;
But meet me, meet me at the Altar,
When the price of wheat rules high!
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[Illustration: TAKEN ON TRUST.
_Viscount Conamorey_ (_whose recollections of the antique are somewhat
hazy_). "AW--A--WHAT BEAUTIFUL ARMS AND HANDS YOU'VE GOT, MRS.
BOUNDER! THEY REMIND ME OF THE VENUS OF MILO'S!"
_Mrs. B._ (_who has never even seen the Venus of Milo_). "_OH_! YOU
_FLATTERER_!"]
* * * * *