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 Was but to be admired by all she met, And the free homage of the heart to claim; And if she showed too plainly this intention, Others have done the same—'twas not of her invention.

She shone at every concert; where are bought Tickets by all who wish them, for a dollar; She patronised the Theatre, and thought That Wallack looked extremely well in Rolla; She fell in love, as all the ladies do, With Mr. Simpson—talked as loudly, too,

As any beauty of the highest grade, To the gay circle in the box beside her; And when the pit—half vexed and half afraid, With looks of smothered indignation eyed her, She calmly met their gaze, and stood before 'em, Smiling at vulgar taste and mock decorum.

And though by no means a bas bleu, she had For literature a most becoming passion; Had skimmed the latest novels, good and bad, And read the Croakers, when they were in fashion; And Doctor Chalmers' sermons, of a Sunday; And Woodworth's Cabinet, and the new Salmagundi.