THE BUTCHER'S BOY AND THE BAKER'S GIRL.

Temuka Leader, Volume 2, Issue 137, 16 April 1879, Page 2

THE BUTCHER'S BOY AND THE BAKER'S GIRL.

It was down in the yeast part of the city. He was a bully butcher boy—she was the pie-ous daughter of the 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 towards each other over the backbone of the separating - railing. He was

casting sheep's eyes at her, while hers turned on him with a provocating roll. " Meat me to-night beef-fore quarter to ten," said he. " Oh, dough-nut ask it," she- s id. " I make no bones about it," said he, " You're not well-bread," said she. " Only sweet-bread," said he. " Don't egg me on," said he.fa " I never " sausage" a girl. Don't J keep me on tender hooks !" said he, I quite chop-fallen. " Why don't you wear that dear flour I gave you ?" asked she. "Pork-quoi ?" asked he. " Oh, knead I say ?" asked she. " That don't suet me," said he. " You're crusty. I only wanted to cracker joke-,'' said she. •' You gave' me a cut—the cold shoulder," said | " Ah, you don t loaf toe !" sighed she. " Veal see. I'll cleave to you, and no mis-teak—if you have money," said he. " I can cm»kc a-bun-dance," said she. " Then no ? *aore lamb-entations," said he. You shall be my rib !" " Well done !" said she. And their arms embraced like a pretzel. So his cake was' not all dough. ; she liked a man of his kidney ; and being good livers they will no doubt live on the fat of the land, raisin' lots of children. This world is a queer jumble, but love seems " bread" in the bone.— Potter's American Monthly.