At length arrived the wedding day—­
  Accoutred in the usual way
    Appeared the bridal body—­
  The worthy clergyman began,
  When in the gallant captain ran
    And cried, “Behold your Toddy!”

  The bridegroom, p’r’aps, was terrified,
  And also possibly the bride—­
    The bridesmaids were affrighted;
  But Angelina, noble soul,
  Contrived her feelings to control,
    And really seemed delighted.

  “My bride!” said gallant Captain Todd,
  “She’s mine, uninteresting clod,
    My own, my darling charmer!”
  “Oh, dear,” said she, “you’re just too late,
  I’m married to, I beg to state,
    This comfortable farmer!”

  “Indeed,” the farmer said, “she’s mine,
  You’ve been and cut it far too fine!”
    “I see,” said Todd, “I’m beaten.” 
  And so he went to sea once more,
    “Sensation” he for aye forswore,
  And married on her native shore
  A lady whom he’d met before—­
    A lovely Otaheitan.

THE PERIWINKLE GIRL.

  I’ve often thought that headstrong youths,
    Of decent education,
  Determine all-important truths
    With strange precipitation.

  The over-ready victims they,
    Of logical illusions,
  And in a self-assertive way
    They jump at strange conclusions.

  Now take my case:  Ere sorrow could
    My ample forehead wrinkle,
  I had determined that I would
    Not like to be a winkle.

  “A winkle,” I would oft advance
    With readiness provoking,
  “Can seldom flirt, and never dance
    Or soothe his mind by smoking.”

  In short, I spurned the shelly joy,
    And spoke with strange decision—­
  Men pointed to me as a boy
    Who held them in derision.

  But I was young—­too young, by far—­
    Or I had been more wary,
  I knew not then that winkles are
    The stock-in-trade of Mary.

  I had not seen her sunlight blithe
    As o’er their shells it dances,
  I’ve seen those winkles almost writhe
    Beneath her beaming glances.

  Of slighting all the winkly brood
    I surely had been chary,
  If I had known they formed the food
    And stock-in-trade of Mary.

  Both high and low and great and small
    Fell prostrate at her tootsies,
  They all were noblemen, and all
    Had balances at Coutts’s.

  Dukes with the lovely maiden dealt,
    Duke Bailey and Duke Humphy,
  Who eat her winkles till they felt
    Exceedingly uncomfy.

  Duke Bailey greatest wealth computes,
    And sticks, they say, at no-thing. 
  He wears a pair of golden boots
    And silver underclothing.

  Duke Humphy, as I understand. 
    Though mentally acuter,
  His boots are only silver, and
    His underclothing pewter.