SOCIETY PICTURES.

HAVE you heard of the story of Florimel Faye?

"Very romantic!" I 'm sure you will say, -

"Very romantic, and curious too,

Though some of the story is not very new."

Florimel's pa was a tailor by trade,

Who kept trousers and coats in his shop ready-made;

And so clever he was with his needle and shears,

That he made a big fortune in twenty odd years.

Then he bought him a house 'mid the swells of the town,

Had coachmen and footmen and wines old and brown;

And though he was rough, as I 've often been told,

What odds, so he varnished his manners with gold?

His wife was as clever as he had been shrewd,

And her manners, though stiff, could scarce be called rude;

She knew whom to flatter, and whom to invite

To her luncheon to-day and her party to-night.

But the chief care of both was to bring up their child -

A simple young girl, of a character mild -

That in time she might marry an elegant swell;

And this was their purpose for dear Florimel.

They taught her to warble, to paint, and to dance;

And when it was time they took her to France,

To show her the world, and to have her well dressed

By Worth and Pingard, L'Etoile and the rest.

One evening it chanced, as they sat at the play,

That Florimel's gaze from the actors would stray,

Till it suddenly paused, and met in its flight

The gaze of a man in the box on their right.

His features were pleasing, his uniform fine,

Of noble extraction he gave every sign.

"I 'm sure he 's in love with our Florimel, dear,"

The mother remarked in Mr. Faye's ear.

The officer learned the young lady's address,

And how he could do so, I leave you to guess;

Acquaintance was made, and before many weeks

Le Baron de Chose to his Florimel speaks!

His home, so he says, is a ducal domain,

Worth thousands of pounds, in the heart of Touraine.

His father, a Duke, is old and unwell,

And he offers a dukedom to Chere Florimel!

The parents, unwilling, their daughter resign;

The prize is too lofty for them to decline!

The dowry is settled, and with tears in her eyes,

"Our child is duchess!" poor Madame Faye cries!

The couple depart for the ducal domain

Of the Baron's papa in the heart of Touraine,

And after three days there's a note from the bride,

Which is hurriedly opened with motherly pride.

"The journey was pleasant, we got here last night;

But judge, if you 're able, dear ma, of my blight,

When I found that of us, three dupes had been made,

And the Baron's papa was a baker by trade!"