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MISS BLAYRE'S BENEFIT.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

MISS ETHALIND BLAYRE was chubby and fair,

With dimpled cheeks and auriferous hair,

And she played soubrettes at the "Wraxall Square."

Shall I portray, or let you guess,

The little details of her loveliness? -

It would n't take long to describe her dress.

Just imagine Adelaide's face,

Eliza's figure, Lydia's grace,

A yard of satin and plenty of lace, -

There you have her, Ethalind Blayre;

(Add to the picture Olivia's stare,

And of ankles, Camille's galoptious* pair.)

She at a Freshman, Jacobus hight,

Winked and ogled night after night,

Till he fell in love with her downright.

He sent her flowers of gorgeous hue,

He sent her verses lame and few,

And got introduced by a "Supe" he knew.

She in manner was frank and free;

Borrowed his money, drank eau de vie,

And boxed his ears when they did n't agree.

They had little suppers, tete-a-tete;

They rode out to Chestnut Hill in state;

And as for the term bill - that might wait.

Critical classmates said thereat,

"Not a bad piece of calico that":

Her sister artists, "She's picked up a flat."

At last Miss Blayre's election came

As to the "bill" and "cast" she would name

For her benefit. Then her youthful flame

Begged with the zeal of his tender age

Just to be with her on the stage,

"And our whole class 'll turn out, I engage."

"Any small part." "Well, let me see:

We'll play 'Prince Hal,' and you shall be

The fortunate page who sits by me."

So said, so done; his generous dame

Lent him "fleshings" with "trunks" of the same;

And the Freshman Class, as promised, came.

Two long acts he stood in the "wing,"

Right in the way of everything;

He sees her dance and he hears her sing.

He hears the plaudits her charms had won;

She rushes off new "trunks" to don; -

Now the curtain's up and the third act "on."

Enter Courtiers. "Stand way back!"

Loud applause from collegiate claque;

Audible whispers, "Look at Jack!"

One or two speeches, burlesquefied;

Cue: "Now in a tourney our knights shall ride,"

When Jack takes his seat by his fair one's side.

That hobby-horse "business" well you know;

When the comedian gets a "throw,"

Ethalind ought to jump up with "whoa!"

Those ludicrous horses pitch and "rare";

One kicks the comedian into the air;

Ethalind leaps, - but where is her hair?

Where is her hair that in girlish taste

Had been hanging profusely below her waist?

Well, Jack had just sat on the ends, the "baste!"

There she stands, a figure of fun;

Down comes the curtain with a run;

She springs for Jack, and she "hits him one."

Our hero dwells in Divinity Hall,

He never goes to theatre or ball,

And we hope that he will not be dropped, - that's all.

When last in New York I saw Miss Blayre,

She still had a wealth of auriferous hair. -

Won't this little poem make her swear?

C. A. M.EDITORS OF THE MAGENTA:- I AM a graduate of Harvard, deeply interested in boating, and have always felt a cordial sympathy with all boating-men at Cambridge; but I am also a member of the Union Boat Club, and would humbly beg for myself and other fellow-members a slight degree of consideration.

During the confusion necessarily attendant upon the unfortunate ending of the race on Saturday last, some proper allowance should be made for excitement and informalities. The common dictates of humanity would oblige us to succor wet and half-drowned men, but after borrowing our oars, our trousers, shirts, etc., should not the common dictates of politeness suggest the thought of returning them promptly?

I have been told that it is the inestimable privilege of the graduate to growl; let it stand that we are growlers; but as friends and neighbors, may we not ask to have our property restored soon?

DIRECTOR UNION BOAT CLUB.

April 21, 1875.

*The derivation of this newly-coined word is uncertain; but if from the French galop, its use by our author seems here especially felicitous - EDS.

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