 | NO. I.
THE RAPTURE OF PROSERPINE.
A RHAPSODY, FROM OVID. Sporting scenes and sundry sketches |  |
THE SUBMISSION.
“P. S. Send me a box of good pocket matches—I'm quite
out—how are you off for nectar? J.”
“She has eaten, she has eaten,” blabbed mean Ascalaphus,
young grey-eyed imp, delighted at the chance to do his master
service. “She has eaten, she has eaten, within the
Elysian fields; in the shadow of an arbor I was sitting,
when the queen, on her tiptoe stretching up, plucked a nectarine,
and ate it!”
Another peal of thunder! The snakes upon the heads of
the furies hissed and grinned, and Mercury flew back to heaven.
| NO. I.
THE RAPTURE OF PROSERPINE.
A RHAPSODY, FROM OVID. Sporting scenes and sundry sketches | |