This Spirit was busy at work one day, Amongst a crowd of Bowery boys, When CHARITY happened to come that

way;

And she stopped to listen-though, sooth

to say,

She seldom is fond of clamor and noise.

"Now, pray, Mr. Author, wait just a

minute,

Stop!

Drop

Your subject, and don't again begin it

Till you tell us: What did Charity

wear?

Was her dress of moire antique, or satin; Or was it plain muslin-just like that in

Which love-lorn maidens on the stage Go raving crazy?-and had she a page Did she wear hoops? and what sort of a bonnet?

And tell us, what kind of trimming

was on it?

What-" Stop, stop, dear ladies, it isn't

fair

To question thus closely a modest young

man.

If I could tell the items, I would, I

declare;

For I always oblige you whenever I

can.

I know that of dresses she has a

variety,

Though vanity's not her predominant

passion,

She was costumed, no doubt, with the

greatest propriety,

In the very extreme of the reigning

fashion.