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THE TWO TREATS.
  
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THE TWO TREATS.

Mister and Mistress Stevens “gave a treat”
At Newport to their friends, the other day;
And there four hundred guests from the élite
Enjoyed themselves much in the usual way,
In swallow-tailed and silken-robed propriety,
After the manner of the best society.

516

They sent accounts abroad by telegraph,
To raise the wonder of the gaping millions,
How, as their mansion was too small by half,
They raised in the back yard two huge pavilions,
Reminding one in style and decoration
Of some grand hippodromic combination.
And one was hung with gauze, to represent
Sunset—“how's that for high?”—an iceberg bared;
At one extremity of the mammoth tent,
The electric light in frozen moonlight glared;
Long sprays of smilax from the ice-lumps fell,
And sea-gulls played there—geese, perhaps, as well.
And round the pole that held the canvas taut,
There stood a gilded cage for captive fowls,
And that was filled with birds all newly caught—
Wrens, turkey-buzzards, mocking-birds, crows, owls,
Peacocks, and other songsters rare and choice,
To please with plumage and to charm by voice.
It was, as well the circus posters say,
“A gorgeous scene of grand magnificence,”
A tropic night combined with boreal day;
Immense result of lavishest expense,
To which extravagance and taste gave birth,
Making “the greatest show on all the earth!”
And there the fiddlers fiddled all the night,
And the guests ate and danced, and danced and ate,
And swilled champagne (but nobody got “tight,”)
And kept the revel up till morning late,

517

And then departed, when with aching head,
Mister and Mistress Stevens went to bed.
Now Missus Dennis also gave a treat,
Here in New York, at Essex Market Court,
Brought from her tenement-den in Willet Street,
To make reporters and spectators sport,
And bring the pleasant jest from those whose quick wit is
Stirred to its froth by common folk's iniquities.
'Twas not a lady of high social rank,
Whose husband gave her prominence because
He stole the money of some savings-bank,
Or fled to Europe to escape the laws
Whose lashings “sometimes,” rich rogues can't endure;
But a lone widow, friendless, sad and poor.
She had two children, and they cried for bread;
And, reckless through their hunger-pangs, she stole—
Money? Why, no! “a wash-tub”—I grow red
With shame at such a petty theft; the whole
Worth of the thing but forty cents—good gracious!
So low she sank to fill those maws voracious.
No wonder 'twas that fell the arm of law,
And magisterial duty smote her there;
How could a Justice, sworn all crime to awe,
Heed the deep pathos of that culprit's prayer?
Not his to blame; he held the wretch to bail,
And, failing that to find, she went to jail.
“My children! at the house they wait for me!”
Such the wild words evoked from her despair—

518

“Alone and starving! help their misery!
Did Christ for this the cross of suffering bear?
If I did wrong, so be it! Judge, condemn;
But lend at least a helping hand to them!”
Absurd appeal! What? generous to those?
If they were savages at Nyassa Lake,
Or two car-horses, suffering cruel blows,
Bergh would relieve the twain for pity's sake:
But two jail-orphaned waifs of Willet Street—
Let's read again about that Stevens treat.