ONE OF THE UNFAIR SEX.

She stood at the ticket-seller's Serenely removing her glove, While hundreds of strugglers and yellers, And some that were good at a shove, Were clustered behind her like bats in a cave and unwilling to speak their love. At night she still stood at that window Endeavoring her money to reach; The crowds right and left, how they sinned—O, How dreadfully sinned in their speech! Ten miles either way they extended their lines, the historians teach. She stands there to-day—legislation Has failed to remove her. The trains No longer pull up at that station; And over the ghastly remains Of the army that waited and died of old age fall the snows and the rains.