MISS Flora McFlimsey, of Madison Square,

Has made three separate journeys to Paris;

And her father assures me, each time she was there,

(Not the lady whose name is so famous in history,

But plain Mrs. H., without romance or mystery)

Spent six consecutive weeks without stopping,

In one continuous round of shopping;

Shopping alone, and shopping together,

At all hours of the day and in all sorts of weather;

For all manner of things that a woman can put

On the crown of her head or the sole of her foot,

Or wrap round her shoulders, or fit round her waist,

Or that can be sewed on, or pinned on, or laced,

Or tied on with a string, or stitched on with a bow,

For bonnets, mantillas, capes, collars, and shawls;

Dresses for breakfasts, and dinners, and balls;

Dresses to sit in, and stand in, and walk in,

Dresses to dance in, and flirt in, and talk in;

Dresses in which to do nothing at all;

Dresses for winter, spring, summer, and fall—

All of them different in colour and pattern,

Silk, muslin, and lace, crape, velvet, and satin,

Brocade, and broadcloth, and other material

Quite as expensive and much more ethereal:

In short, for all things that could ever be thought of,

Or milliner, modiste, or tradesman be bought of,

In all quarters of Paris, and to every store,

While McFlimsey in vain stormed, scolded, and swore,

The last trip, their goods shipped by the steamer Argo,

Formed, McFlimsey declares, the bulk of her cargo,

Not to mention a quantity kept from the rest,

Sufficient to fill the largest-sized chest,

Which did not appear on the ship’s manifest,

But for which the ladies themselves manifested

Such particular interest that they invested

Their own proper persons in layers and rows

Of muslins, embroideries, worked underclothes,

Then, wrapped in great shawls, like Circassian beauties,

Gave good-by to the ship, and go-by to the duties.

Her relations at home all marvelled, no doubt,

Miss Flora had grown so enormously stout

But the miracle ceased when she turned inside out,

Which, in spite of collector and custom-house sentry,

Had entered the port without any entry.

And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the day

This merchandise went, on twelve carts, up Broadway,

This same Miss McFlimsey, of Madison Square,

The last time we met, was in utter despair,

Because she had nothing whatever to wear!

Nothing To Wear! Now, as this is a true ditty,

That she’s in a state of absolute nudity,

But I do mean to say I have heard her declare,

That she had not a thing in the wide world to wear!

I should mention just here, that out of Miss Flora’s

I had just been selected as he who should throw all

The rest in the shade, by the gracious bestowal

On myself, after twenty or thirty rejections,

Of those fossil remains which she called her “affections,”

And that rather decayed but well-known work of art,

Which Miss Flora persisted in styling “her heart.”

So we were engaged. Our troth had been plighted

But in a front parlour, most brilliantly lighted,

Without any romance, or raptures, or sighs,

Without any tears in Miss Flora’s blue eyes,

Or blushes, or transports, or such silly actions;

It was one of the quietest business transactions,

With a very small sprinkling of sentiment, if any,

And a very large diamond imported by Tiffany.

On her virginal lips while I printed a kiss,

She exclaimed, as a sort of parenthesis,

And by way of putting me quite at my ease,

“You know, I’m to polka as much as I please,

And flirt when I like—now stop—don’t you speak—

And you must not come here more than twice in the week,

Or talk to me either at party or ball,

But a’ways be ready to come when I call:

So don’t prose to me about duty and stuff—

If we don’t break this off, there will be time enough

For that sort of thing; but the bargain must be,

For this is a sort of engagement, you see,

Which is binding on you, but not binding on me.”

Well, having thus wooed Miss McFlimsey, and gained her,

With the silks, crinolines, and hoops that contained her,

I had, as I thought, a contingent remainder

At least in the property, and the best right

To appear as its escort by day and by night;

And it being the week of the Stuckups’ grand ball—

I considered it only my duty to call

I found her—as ladies are apt to be found

When the time intervening between the first sound

Of the bell and the visitor’s entry is shorter