a besom the street; To dresses so gauzy the hoops through are seen; To shoes quite as gauzy to cover the feet; But watch how a man here goes raving and swearing, At wife and all hands, if they've nothing to eat! 

  

  

       Mrs. Merdle Discourseth of Things Earthly.     

    No matter how costly or flimsy her dresses, The angel you honor with your kind attentions; No matter how foolish her wardrobe inventions, You love her, or say so, from slipper to tresses; But, presto! you call her the greatest of sinners, Though smiling, she treats you to badly cooked dinners; Which proves where the seat is of men's best affections, With which 'pon their honor they extol us as wives, And treat us at dinner with sagest reflections, Of beauty, and duty we owe all our lives To you, noble lords, of this mundane creation; Which, judging from some things they tell us, Was made for the creatures of this trading nation, Who make it a business to buy us and sell us, Like 'Erie,' or 'Central,' or other such stocks; With care, when they bid for a very 'Miss Nancy,'    That she's of a stock that the brokers call 'fancy,'    Or else has a pocket 'chuck full of the rocks'—    The rocks that are wrecking each day of their sailing, More fortunes than ever in ocean were swallowed; Where 'ventures' of marriage their victims impaling With mammon and mis'ry together have wallowed. 

  

  

       Mrs. Merdle Discourseth of Things Eatable.     

    Now Colonel, to husband you need not be winking, While wiping the soup with a smile from your lips; I know just as well as he does how you're thinking The soup is as tasteless as though made of chips.     You need not deny it, and swear that no better Concocted was ever in London or Paris; Remember the praises you gave in your letter Of cooking and eating you wrote to Miss Harris. Now, Colonel, don't offer a word more to flatter—    The soup may be so-so, but wait for the meat; And after you've seen the last dish, plate, or platter, You'll own then, I'm certain, we've nothing to eat—    That is compared, as described to Miss Harris, With all the best tables you eat at in Paris. 

  

  

       Mrs. Merdle Ordereth the Second 

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