Old Cripus Would Bring Him The Cash.”]

I never thought then little Kitty Malone As heir to old Gripus would bring him the cash, 'Pon which as a banker Jack Merdle has shone, And Kitty in fashion has cut such a dash; Nor when as a girl not a shoe to her feet, She accepted my offers of coppers or candy, She would tell me in satin “we've nothing to eat,” While eating from silver or sipping her brandy, And wond'ring that Merdle, the Jack I have named, Should bring home a friend--['twas thus she exclaimed-- The day that I've mentioned--a day to remember-- When Merdle and I in his carriage and bays, Through Avenue Five on a day in September, Drove up to a mansion with gas-light ablaze.)

Mrs. Merdle At Home.

She Discourseth of Nothing to Eat and the Cost thereof.

Why Merdle--why did you bring Dinewell to-day? So very, though welcome, so quite unexpected!

For dinner, if any, I'm sure I can't say, Our servants with washing are all so infected.

If any's provided, 't is nothing but scraps Of pot-luck or pick up of some common fare; Or something left over from last week perhaps, Which you've brought a friend, and an old one, to share.

I never, I'm sure now, so much was ashamed, To think he'll discover--what's true to the letter-- We've nothing, or next to't that's fit to be named, For one who is used every day to what's better.

But what can you expect if you come on a Monday? Our French cook's away too, I vow and declare-- But if you would see us with something to spare, Let's know when you're coming, or come on a Sunday; For that of all others, for churchmen or sinners, A day is for gorging with extra good dinners.