He was smooth as an eel,
And rode so genteel
That in less than a week every old maid and dame
Was constantly lisping the bold Captain's name.
Now Mr. McNair,
As well as the fair,
Had a "bump of reverence" as big as a pear,
And whoever like Brown
Had a little renown,
And happened to visit that rural town,
Was invited of course by McNair--to "go down."
So merely by chance,
The son of the lance
Became the bold hero of quite a romance:
For Mrs. McNair thought him wonderful fair,
And that none but her husband could with him compare.
Half her timidity vanished in air
The first time he dined with herself and McNair.
Now the Captain was arch
In whiskers and starch
And preferred, now and then, a gay waltz to a march.
A man, too, he was of uncommon good taste;
Always "at home" and never in haste,
And his manners and speech were remarkably chaste.
To tell you in short
His daily resort
He made at the house of "his good friend McNair,"
Who ('twas really too bad) was so frequently out
When the Captain called in "just to see _him_" (no doubt)
But Mrs. McNair was so lonely--too bad;
So he chatted and chattered and made her look glad.
Pages:
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361