But the miracle ceased when she turned inside out,

    And the truth came to light, and the dry-goods besides,

    Which, in spite of Collector and Custom-House sentry,

    Had entered the port without any entry.

    And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the day

    This merchandise went, on twelve carts, up Broadway,

    This same Miss M'Flimsey of Madison Square,

    The last time we met was in utter despair,

    Because she had nothing whatever to wear!

    Nothing to wear! Now, as this is a true ditty,

    I do not assert—this, you know, is between us

    That she's in a state of absolute nudity,

    Like Powers's Greek Slave or the Medici Venus;

    But I do mean to say, I have heard her declare,

    When at the same moment she had on a dress

    Which cost five hundred dollars, and not a cent less,

    And jewelry worth ten times more, I should guess,

    That she had not a thing in the wide world to wear!

    I should mention just here, that out of Miss Flora's

    Two hundred and fifty or sixty adorers,

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