THE POSTMAN’S WOOING. THE POSTMAN’S PLIGHT.

JOHN THOMPSON was a postman who Was bound in Cupid’s fetters, And though not deeply read, ’tis true, Was still a Man of Letters. He paid attention to one Kate Maria Julia Jervis, But she did not appreciate John Thompson’s Civil Service. Quoth he, “Oh scorn me not, sweet Kate, Nor let my love-suit fail, Oh tell me not my pleading’s late, And don’t Despatch this Mail.” But she replied, in accents grave, “I love you not—decamp!” And when he spoke again—she gave Her foot an Extra Stamp. And cried, “My anger you awake, Your speech on insult borders, I’m poor, but I would scorn to take Your vile Post-office Orders.” Then Thompson felt in mournful mood, And moaned in accents shivery, “Miss Jervis, if my speech be rude, Pray pardon its Delivery.” He left the room with footsteps slow, A bitter lesson taught, And then to counteract the blow, A pillar-box he sought. He felt how foolish was the tact In courtship he had boasted, And recognized the solemn fact That he was badly Posted.