EASTER MORNING.

Too early, of course! How provoking!

I told Ma just how it would be.

I might as well have on a wrapper,

For there isn't a soul here to see.

There! Sue Delaplaine's pew is empty,--

I declare if it isn't too bad!

I know my suit cost more than hers did,

And I wanted to see her look mad.

I do think that sexton's too stupid--

He's put some one else in our pew--

And the girl's dress just kills mine completely;

Now what am I going to do?

The psalter, and Sue isn't here yet!

I don't care, I think it's a sin

For people to get late to service,

Just to make a great show coming in.

Perhaps she is sick, and can't get here--

She said she'd a headache last night.

How mad she'll be after her fussing!

I declare, it would serve her just right.

Oh, you've got here at last, my dear, have you?

Well, I don't think you need be so proud

Of that bonnet, if Virot did make it,

It's horrid fast-looking and loud.

What a dress!--for a girl in her senses

To go on the street in light blue!--

And those coat-sleeves--they wore them last Summer--

Don't doubt, though, that she thinks they're new.

Mrs. Gray's polonaise was imported--

So dreadful!--a minister's wife,

And thinking so much about fashion!--

A pretty example of life!

The altar's dressed sweetly. I wonder

Who sent those white flowers for the font!--

Some girl who's gone on the assistant--

Don't doubt it was Bessie Lamont.

Just look at her now, little humbug!--

So devout--I suppose she don't know

That she's bending her head too far over,

And the ends of her switches all show.

What a sight Mrs. Ward is this morning!

That woman will kill me some day.

With her horrible lilacs and crimsons;

Why will these old things dress so gay?

And there's Jenny Welles with Fred. Tracy--

She's engaged to him now--horrid thing!

Dear me! I'd keep on my glove sometimes,

If I did have a solitaire ring!

How can this girl next to me act so--

The way that she turns round and stares,

And then makes remarks about people;

She'd better be saying her prayers.

Oh dear, what a dreadful long sermon!

He must love to hear himself talk!

And it's after twelve now,--how provoking!

I wanted to have a nice walk.

Through at last. Well it isn't so dreadful

After all, for we don't dine till one;

How can people say church is poky!--

So wicked!--I think it's real fun.

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