"I don't think there's any danger, love," said Miss POTTS, rather
sharply.

"Why, FLORA precious?"

"Oh, because he's so absurdly fastidious, you know, about regularity of
features in women."

"More than he is about brains, I should think, dear, from what you tell
me of his making love to you."

Here both young ladies trembled very much, and said they never, never
would have believed it of each other; and were only reconciled when
FLORA sobbed that she was a poor unmarried orphan, and Miss PENDRAGON
moaned piteously that an unwedded Southern girl without money had better
go away somewhere in the desert, with her crushed brother, and die at
once for their down-trodden section. Then, indeed, they embraced
tearfully; and, in proof of the perfect restoration of their devoted
friendship, agreed never to marry if they could avoid it, and told each
other the prices of all their best clothes.

"You _won't_ tell your brother that I've been here?" said the
Flowerpot. "I'm so absurdly afraid that he can't help blaming me for
causing some of his trouble."

"Can't I tell him, even if it would serve to amuse him in his
desolation?" asked the sister, persuasively. "I want to see him smile
again, just as he does some days when a hand-organ-man's monkey climbs
up to our windows from the street."

"Well, you _may_ tell him, then, you absurd thing!" returned FLORA,
blushing; and, with another embrace, they parted, and the deeply
momentous interview was over.

(_To be Continued._)

[Footnote 3: Author of "The Grave."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: ROMANCE AND REALITY.

IN THE LIBRARY.

_Jones, (reading.)_ "THE GLASS OF FASHION AND THE MOULD OF FORM, THE
OBSERVED OF ALL OBSERVERS."

_Jenkins, (with enthusiasm.)_ "PERFECT DESCRIPTION OF MY WIFE!"

IN THE GARDEN.

THIS IS MRS. JENKINS, IN HER MORNING TOILETTE.]

* * * * *

OFFICE SEEKING.[4]

BY ICHABOD BOGGS,

THE NEW AMERICAN POET.

PREFATORY NOTE.--The reader is requested to judge the following
production mildly, as it is the first effort of a youthful genius (16
years old in looks and feeling, 42 by the family bible and census.) The
author has felt that America should have a new kind of verse of its own,
and he thinks he here offers one which has never been used by any other
mortal poet. It is called the duodekameter. Perhaps it may be proper to
add that the following is _poetry_.

I.