LADIES' EXPRESS.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume II, Issue 190, 25 July 1874, Page 2

LADIES' EXPRESS.

[The Editor will be glad to give insertion to any local contributions from his lady friends that mag be considered interesting in the family circle, or to the sex generally.]

LOVE’S BOUQUET.

I’ll cull for thee the fairest flowers to-day, To grace with their bright forms thy fairy hand, And woo thy praises with their fragrance sweet. First in the midst a rose shall proudly reign, Like some bright queen amid her retinue ; Round it shall jasmine wreathe its virgin stars, And amorous twine with blue forget-me-nots. Peeping beside some stately lily fair, The eglantine shall breathe its odour round ; And like some pure and lovely modest maid, That fain would hide her beauties from the light, The drooping fuchsia shall, with pensive grace, Adorn my gift, the tenderest flower of all. Now, art thou satisfied ? or wouldst thou wish To see some favorites blooming there ? Then bring the modestdaisy, whose sweet face Shows innocence in all its beauty rare ; And let the myrtle in all her dainty green Shine forth amid the voilet’s azure bloom. O’er the sweet blossoms let the sparkling dew Stud each fair petal with a glittering gem ; Then may this gift, culled by the hands of love And hope, be deemed acceptable by thee. Hettie K.

Pretty Compliment. —A gentleman paid a compliment to a beautiful German lady by telling her she resembled the Prussian army, “ How so ?” she asked. “ You are always winning,” was the reply. Lady Gardening. —Make your beds early in the morning; sew buttons on your husband’s shirts;, do not rake up any grievances; protect the young and tender branches of your family ; plant a smile of good temper in your face ; and carefully root out all angry feelings, and expect a good crop of happiness. Mrs. Webb, of Melbourne,, has published a pamphlet, entitled the Womans Advocate, in which she recommends that a Bill should be introduced into Parliament for establishing a widows’ fund, contributed to by every husband, that no widow may be left destitute. Also, a maidens’ fund, to which all bachelors must contribute, that no maidens be left destitute after forty. The celebrated Mrs. Thicknesse undertook to construct a letter, every word of which should be French, yet no Frenchman should be able to read it, while an illiterate Englishman should deeiper it with ease. Here follows a specimen of the yea de mots: — “Pre, Dire Sistre, come and se us, and pas the de here if yeux canne, and chat tu my dame, and dine here ; and yeux mai go the faire if yeux plaise. Yeux mai have fiche, muttin, pore, buter, foule, hair, fruit, pigeon, olives, saliette, for ure diner, and excellent te, cofe, port vin, and liqueurs ; and tell ure bette and poll to comme, and lie go te the faire and visite the Baron. But if yeux don’t comme to us, He go to ure house and se oncle, and se hou he does ; for my dame ses he bean ill; but doux comme my dire; yeux canne ly here yeux nos. If yeux love musique yeux mai have the harpe, flutte, or viol here.— Adieu, my dire sistre.” Buried in heb Wedding Dress.—The Romance of reality : A widow of 70 years died in Portsmouth the other day, the truth of whose life was stranger than any fiction. At the age of 15 she married the choice of her heart, a young sea captain, and after a brief and happy honeymoon, he left her for a foreign voyage. But his ship was never heard from, and doubtless foundered at sea, with al! on board. The young husband, as he was dressing for sea on the morning he left home, playfully threw a pair of stockings backwards over his head, to test some sailor’s charm or other, and they chanced to land on the top of a canopy bedstead, he remark-’ ing, “ Sarah, let them stay there till 1 come back.” And many and many a long year they have laid there, but alas! he never returned. But neither love, nor hopes, nor expectations, ever died out in her faithful heart during all the many years of her lonely pilgrimage. To the last, whenever a door opened, or a step was heard approaching, she turned to see if it. might not be he whom she mourned and sought. But he never came again to her—let us hope and trust that she has gone to him. By her desire she was buried in her wedding dress, with white gloves and wedding-ring.