Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1856-04-26
MISCELLANY.
lFrom Punam's Monthly for march,
SNIP-SNAP.

Cynthia Susan Simpson, age eighteen, with
the pretty talent Of pleasing men, was the ac-
knwledged belle Of the little Marrow-Squash
Valley.
This little talent of pleasing men is snme-
times given by nature as compensation for
The lack of every other accomplishment, or the
means of procuring any but this was not the
case with Cynthia, who had good Yankee sense,
and a vein of sprightliness in her composition,
which latter, as take il, requires seycral 9th
er talents for its support, otherwise it soon de-
generates into Stiffness whence il sours into
vulgar ill-nature 10 the country girl-n the la
dy Of society into sarcasm.
Cynthia was pretty, in the freshness OF her
age. American beauty comes forth like a flow
er, and is cut down. The loveliness of girl
hood rarely ripens in the mairon. And Gym
ihia was afraid to risk her loveliness, no doubt;
for whilst she encouraged the attention of
many "beaux," who, in the language Of her
society, "went to see her evening after even
ing, at the snug farmhouse Of her father,
whenever any Of these swains took the oppor-
tunity to press upon her notice the nature Of
bis case, and urge the necessity Of its speedy
cure, she cut the matter short with him.
Truth must be said, that amongst all her ad-
mrers there was not one who was a priori--
that is, before a reciprocaiion OF his love took
place--a very desirable match for her.
The richest was Seth Taegar;, who paid his
last visit TO her one afternoon, In brand new
suit Of glossy, fine black broad cloth, Pretty
Cynthia was alone, and prepared by previous
experience to discern symptoms ofan approach
ing assault upon the Malakoff of her affections
She puckered her pretty little mouth, and sewed
with Misunderstanding fingers, on the sleeve Of
one of the old sq1ire's shirts, Of unbeached
cotton and thought TO herself what fool
Seth H~apan was, and wondered how he would
get out Of, the fix in which lie found himself,
and how he could dare to think she had given
him encouraAeme and looked--very be-
witchng. PoAr Seth sat on the verge Of his
shair, and gazed through the window, which
was open, into The woods. but his was mind
like that of Wordsw6rh's Peter.
"t primrose. on the riysr's brim.
A yellow primrose was to him,
And nothing more"
He did not find any inspiration 10 the woods,
SO he began TO look into tho ashes
Miss Cynthia, said he, at length. did you
ever see crowl'
yes, Mr.. SeIh, said she, folding her gus
set, and looking down at il demurely as a mouse
'Blaek-ain't iil said Seth.
Very
Then came apause. Darn it'll wish She
help me out, said Seth in his own thought
The little mink knows what want to say, and
she might help me to say it,
What man has no, thought Of this before
now. at courting time--and wished 10 borrow
feminine tact, aud the larger experience of wo-
man, to help him out Of the slough Of despond
he is beginning to sink into What man
would not give the world TO know how the last
man, who offered himself to her got through
with itl r
Ever see on owl = said Seth, At length,
falling back upon his own resources.
'onen, Mr. Selh,' lsped pretty Cynthia.
Its got big eyes-ain't il. now =
Very big eyes, said she.
Seth grew angry. Angry with himself, no
dcub, but anger. like Phebus AppollO az sun.