tongue was tied--
She couldn't decide,
And she only moaned at a wonderful rate.

No mortal can tell
"What might have befell,"
Had it been a mile more to the Globe Hotel;
But as they approached it she broke from her spell.
A single hair
For Mr. McNair
She vowed to herself that she did not care;
But the Captain so true
In his coat of blue--
To his loving arms in her fancy she flew.
In a moment or more
They drove up to the door,
And she felt that her trials and troubles were o'er.
The landlord came hastily out in his slippers,
For late he had sat with some smokers and sippers.
As the lady stepped down
With a fret and a frown,
She sighed half aloud, "Where is dear Captain Brown?"
"This way, my dear madam," politely he said,
And straightway to the parlor the lady he led.

Now the light was dim
Where she followed him,
And the dingy old parlor looked gloomy and grim.
As she entered, behold, in contemplative mood,
In the farther corner the bold Captain stood
In his coat of blue:
To his arms she flew;
She buried her face in his bosom so true:
"Dear Captain!--my Darling!" sighed Mrs. McNair;
Then she raised her dark eyes and--Good Heavens'
I declare!---
Instead of the Captain 'twas--_Mr. McNair!_
She threw up her arms--she screamed--and she fainted;
Such a scene!--Ah the like of it never was painted.

Of repentance and pardon I need not tell;
Her vows I will not relate,
For every man must guess them well
Who knows much of the "married state."
Of the sad mischance suffice it to say
That McNair had suspected the Captain's "foul play;"
So he laid a snare
For the bold and the fair,
But he captured, alas, only Mrs. McNair;
And the brass-buttoned lover--bold Captain Brown--
Was nevermore seen in that rural town.

Mrs. McNair
Is tall and fair;
Mrs. McNair is slim;
And her husband again is her only care--
She is wonderfully fond of him;
For now he is all the dear lady can wish--he
Is a captain himself--in the State militia.

1859.

THE DRAFT

[January, 1865.]

Old Father Abe has issued his "Call"
For Three Hundred Thousand more!
By Jupiter, boys, he is after you all--
Lamed and maimed--tall and small--
With his drag-net spread for a general haul
Of the "suckers" uncaught before.

I am sorry to see such a woeful change
In the health of the hardiest;
It is wonderful odd--it is "passing strange"--
As over the country you travel and range,
To behold