The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1841-12-18
LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG:
BY DALTON

"And when, my Angelic Seraphine,
will you yield us your sweet self to the
arms Of Mars and Major O'Callaghan?-
Caesar, ye divil, take your tail out of the
lady's basket, and let her spake in peace
and quietness."
The latter portion Of this address was
directed to large black, curly-haired
Newfoundland dog, who acknowledged
the report with dignity, and complied
evidently as matter Of great conde-
scension.
The "Angelic Seraphine" was a maiden
''gem of purest ray serene,' whose
beauty had for nineand thirty long years
been lost upon mankind; but, recently de-
corated with a setting both 'rich and rare,'
its worth and brilliancy had become sud-
denly and widely appreciated. No SOON
er had the highly respectable Mynheer,
V on Steinker died, leaving ten thousand
pounds, in red herrings and Dutch cheese
to his niece, the said unnoticed Seem"
than unnumbered aspirants started up for
| the hand (none, of course, looked so low
as the pocket of the charming heress.-
Major O'Cal!aghan, however and GER
tain Mr.. Augustus Adolphus Ernest Jay,
clearly distanced the field; with these, so
well balanced appeared their merits, dam
ger was at one time apprehended of dead
heat, till Mr.. Jay, whose force Law, for
the most part, i'll sentimental poetry, and
u nice disposition of the shirt collar, grad
ually gave ground TO his more vigorous
rival
"Shall we say tomorrow, my dar-
ling, or will it be the day after, my own
angel?''
Miss seraphine Gan euphonism, by the
way, OF Sally bent her eye earnestly
towards the canvass Oh which she was
delineatlng in wors,ed some very original
leaves and roses.
Now, really, Major, inst this very
pretty?" she said at length, with an air of
innocent playlnlness, as if matrmony had
never formed the subject of her lightest
thoughts; shave you seen the enchanting
stanzas that dear Mr.. Jay has addressed to
my bouquet lleigho! he certainly does
write delightfully."-"
Sand don't | write delightfully?D ex-
claimed her companion, running, round
hand, German text, and cyphering-it's
all one"
81 spoke of poetry sir,'' said the lady.
Sand has he been writing poetry on
them picked cabbages and cowcum-
| bers?"
"Cabbagcs and cucumbcrs, Major o.
Callaghan" repeated Miss. Stcinker in a
very high tone.
"Ohp' cried the latter, passing one
hand round her waist, and with the other
SEEING one OF hers, "what is cowcumbers2
and what is roses and cabbages to le-
male loneliness and military Affections
Here Throw myself, good six feet two,
at your feet, and will never rise till you
fix the day for becoming Mrs Major o.
Callaghan,-Mrs, Major O'-Callaghan,n
he repeated, laying much emphasis upon
the somewhat incongruous prefix.
The lady turned her green and lovely
eyes upon the speaker:-a very faint SUI
fusion was just visible on her counter
ance as she met the "Long sword-saddle
brldle," expression of his.
"The day." reiterated the suppliaat,-
snow or neverl''
The snow or never" settled the busi-
ness.-Nliss Steinker, and Mr.. Jay was
lost. "Wednesday next'' was at her
tongues end, when, modestly turning her
head aside, she with shrek exclaimed!'
"Oh! mine dear lle!-Oh! mlnc beauti-
tul worsteds-we are all ruined. What
you bring your filthy dog for here? he is
vone brute-a beast!'
ga very common charge against dogs,
ma'am," replied her admirer, taking snuff
but still OH his knees.
"C@sar, sir, oblige the lady by putting
her datlydown dillies out Of your own
ugly mouth
Cesar looked at his master, as if incli.
ed to expostulate and argue with him the
unreasonableness of the request.
'.Drop it sir" exclaimed the latter
sharply.
The. dog instantly obcyed, and wag-
glng his tail with an sob certainly if you
wish it," kind of air, deposited the
mangled portions Of the worsted bouquet,
the
"Poor remains ofbcauty once adored."
upon the floor.
The deed, however, was done. Miss
oteinker was indignant, and not one word
more respecting the happy day,-the
suspicious day,-the blushing morn, (the
Major tried them ALL would she listen
to. The dlsconsolate lover was at length
compelled to beat retreat unanswered,
and with all intimation too that he was
not to set foot in that best front drawing
room again, till Caesar had found Brutus
or, had at least, suffered the pains and
penalties of expatriation.