cost $0.63!

ENVOY.

My queen, for your favor I sue;
If your heart through my pleading relents,
To your feelings pray send me one clue--
The fan that cost $0.63.

_Harvard Lampoon_.

~Apparent.~

When I questioned young Smithson, a short time ago,
Why no longer he courted Miss B.,
He looked at me strangely, and smiled just a bit--
"The reason's a parent!" cried he.

ALBERT ELLSWORTH THOMAS.
_Brunonian_.

~The Call of Duty.~

At early morn, a valiant knight,
On prancing charger, richly dight,
With helm and lance and armor bright,
Rose from his lordly halls:
"Now, in this region, round about,
There dwell three outlaws, strong and stout:
If luck be mine, I'll find them out!
For duty calls."

Friday, at three, another knight
(Knowing that ladies all delight
In music), shod with patents bright,
Steers clear of Music Halls:
"In Boston's Back Bay, round about,
There dwell three matrons, plain and stout:
If luck be mine, I'll find them out--
For 'duty calls.'"

R. C. ROBBINS.
_Harvard Lampoon._

~A Paradox.~

'Tis a curious fact, but a fact very old;
You can keep a fire hot by keeping it coaled.

HERBERT ERNEST DAY.
_Brunonian_.

~St. Valentine's Eve.~

HE.

"I will write little Ethel some verses,
The love that I bear her to tell;
I've no money for tokens more costly,
I'm sure these will do quite as well.

"How pleased she will be when she gets them!
What a sweet little note I'll receive
In acknowledgment of the verses
I sent her St. Valentine's eve."

SHE.

"What a miserable jumble of phrases!
What chaotic verse do I see!
I wonder what could have possessed him
To send these effusions to me!

"Never mind, though, I'm sure they'll be useful,
And I think I know just about where."
So she took them, and twisted, and placed them
In the newly made curls of her hair.

E.W. BURLINGAME.
_Yale Record_.

~Evidence.~

Of all the lines that volumes fill,
Since Aesop first his fables told,
The wisest is the proverb old,
That every Jack must have his Jill.

But when the crowd that nightly fills
The down-town places, hillward goes,
To hear them sing, one would suppose
That every Jack had several gills.

B.O.H.
_Cornell Magazine_.

~The Widow's Mite.~

She was a widow stern and spry,
And brimming with lots of fight;
She married a little man five feet high,
And he died from the widow's might.

_Columbia Spectator_.

~Line