The queerest thing happened (’twas not long ago),

To Miss Betty Pringle. Perhaps you don’t know

That it made little difference what came to her sight,

There never was anything really quite right!

The grass was too green, and the sky was too gray,

And the wind never blew in a suitable way,—

If it came from the east it was brewing a storm,

If it blew from the south ’twas oppressively warm!

If the sun shone at all, it was always too bright,

And she wished it would hurry and set for the night.

If a friend came to see her with something new on,

’Twas “to show off her gewgaws, as sure’s you are born;”

If a package were left in which dainties were found,

She knew that her friend had an axe to be ground.

And so it went on for a twelvemonth or more,

Till a queer little stranger appeared at her door,

With a case of new glasses of marvellous power,

That would change one’s whole vision in less than an hour!

At his rat-a-tat-tat! Betty Pringle came out,

Much surprised at her brisk little caller, no doubt!

“Good morning, my lady!” he said with a smile.

“No, no; I’ll not step in—it’s hardly worth while.

I’ve heard that your glasses (I cannot tell where)