The Ladies.

Auckland Star, Volume VI, Issue 1683, 10 July 1875, Page 5 (Supplement)

The Ladies.

No true woman will ever marry a man so tall that she cannot reach his hair.

How artless! When the crowded omnibus drives up to a fine three-story mansion, one of the young women getting.out invariably remarks, ' Home at last!' 'Hair gettm' a little thin, sir,' Baid the barber. Young man,' said John Henry, looking down upon him from the height of a solemn experience; 'young man, when you are married you will never allude in that thoughtless: manner to domestic afflictions. N 6 ;'don't; apologize: My feelings are blunted. But is. there not some mysterious ungent—-some soft, seductive compound— that makes the hair more slippery to the . grasp'?'. ;, . ~ Wun gives the following feminine reasons for going to bhurch: 'Because the Rev. Voluble Cope intones so delightfully, and looks so; interesting and emaciated, and preaches such delightfully high sermons ; and so sweet anfd short,. too.* Because the little boys in white BurpliceschJint so angelically, and one somehow feels ifcall so delightfully wrong and Roman Catholic* Because my bonnet is the loyeliestjm tho village, and'it is a duty to Show the country girls what a really tasteful thing in dress means. Because one likes to j look at, other, people's bonnets, and dresses;. and nothing but seeing, could make one believe what execrable taste, most English girls 'have! Because Charlie is sure toj be there, with that inevitable white flower and fernleaf in his button-hole (the ridiculous fellow!) and mamma will probably ask him home to lunch. ' Because/it's Sunday, and it would look so strange to stay away.' A method *by which persons with short" memories may sing songs which have been partly forgotten,' and also supply rhymes, is BUggestejiby the following: Oh, if ;I had a lumty turn lumty tumjtoo, : In theland of theoliye>ahd figji f<i ■. I TCould sing of tho lumti luntti to you, I And ph\y on the .thingumy-jig.';,. C ,', I Andj^in the lumty ium battle I _al],-. : ' > jk \ ik tumti turn's all that I crave j - ~,.-. J^, Oh, bury ma dee^ in what you may call, And plant fchiHgumbobi o'er mj gray*, *'■