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66 A SHABBY GENTEEL STORY
torn off a piece to light a cigar with, when he saw that words
were written on the other side of the paper, and deciphered the
following :—
"SONG OF THE VIOLET.
" A humble flower long time I pined
Upon the solitary plain,
And trembled at the angry wind,
And shrunk before the bitter rain.
And, oh I 'twas in a blessed hour,
A passing wanderer chanced to see
And, pitying the lonely flower,
To stoop and gather me.
I fear no more the tempest rude,
On dreary heath no more I pine,
But left my cheerless solitude
To deck the breast of Caroline.
Alas ! our days are brief at best,
Nor long I fear will mine endure,
Though shelter'd here upon a breast
So gentle and so pure.
It draws the fragrance from my leaves,
It robs mo of my sweetost breath ;
And every time it falls and heaves,
It warns me of my coming death.
But one I know would glad forego
All joys of life to bo as I ;
An hour to rest on that sweet breast,
And then, contented, die.
"ANDREA."
When Mr. Brandon had finished the perusal of these verses, he
laid them down with an air of considerable vexation. " Egad !"
said he, "this fellow, fool as he is, is not so great a fool as he
seems ; and if he goes on this way, may finish by turning the girl's
head. They can't resist a man if he but presses hard enough—I
know they can't !" And here Mr. Brandon mused over his various
experience, which confirmed his observation, that be a man ever so
silly, a gentlewoman will yield to him out of sheer weariness. And
he thought of several cases in which, by the persevering application
of copies of verses, young ladies had been brought from dislike to
sufferance of a man, from sufferance to partiality, and from partiality
to St. George's, Hanover Square. " A ruffian who murders his h's
to carry off such a delicate little creature as that !" cried he in a
transport : " it shall never be if I can prevent it !" He thought