THE BUTCHER BOY AND THE BAKER’S GIRL.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1728, 3 September 1879, Page 3

THE BUTCHER BOY AND THE BAKER’S GIRL.

It was down in tho yeast part of the city. He was a burly boy—she was the pie-oua daughter of a German baker next door, with eyes like currants, and her yellow hair twisted on the back of her head like a huge cruller. They leaned toward each other over the backbone of the separating railing. Ho was casting sheep’s eyes ot her, while hors turned to him with a provocating roll. ‘ Meat me to-night beef-fore quarter to ten,’ he said. * Oh, dough-nut ask me,’ said'she. ‘I make no bones about it,’ said he. ‘ You are not well bread,’ said she, 4 Only sweet bread,’ said he. 4 Don’t egg me on,’ said she. 4 1 never sausage a girl. Don’t keep me on tender-hooks!,’_ said he, quite chopfallen. 4 Why don’t you wear'the dear flour I gave you ? ’ asked she. 4 Pork quoi ? ’ asked^ho. 4 Oh, knead I say ? ’ asked she, 4 That don’t suet me,’ said he, 4 You’re crusty. wanted] to cracker joke,’ said she. 1 You gave me a cut —the cold shoulder,’ said he. 4 Ah, you don’t loaf me ! ’ sighed she. ’Veal see, I cleave to you and no mis-steak —if you have money,’ said ho. 4 1 can make a-bun-dance,’ said she. 4 Ther no more lamb-entations,’ said he. 4 You shall be my rib ! ’ 4 Well done! ’ said she. And their arms embrace like a bretzel. So his cake was not all dough; she likes a man of his kidney; and, being good livers, they will no doubt live on the fat of the land, raisin lots of children. The world is a queer jumble, but love seems * bread in the bone.’ — 4 Potter’s Monthly.’