afternoon, when I came in to my bit of dinner,
there was nobody in the room. I knocked at
the door of the lodger on the same landing, a
young woman in the shoe-binding line, and
asked if she knew where my missus was?
"All right," she says; "she'll be with you
directly."

I went back to my room and sat down, and
in about five minutes the door opened and somebody
came in. I looked round and saw before
me—what do you think, sir? A tall woman,
dressed in a short red petticoat, with a turban
on her head, and her face blacked! .

There was no mistaking that figure-head. It
was Maria.

"How do you like me now?" she says.

"Why, Maria," I says, "whatever are you
up to?"

In answer to that, sir, she whips up an old
tambourine, and strikes up

  Rosa, Rosa, Sambo come,
  Make a little fire in de back room;
    Oh, Rose, coal black Rose,
  I wish I may be burned
  If I don't love Rose.

And then she did the tambourine with her
thumb, and jingled it to the time, and banged
it against her head and elbows just as if she had
been born to it.

"Will that suit?" she says.

"Why, Maria," I said to her quite serious,
"what does this mean?"

"Well," she says, "it means, Joseph, that
I don't think you draw by yourself; and I'm
going to help you. What you want," she says,
"is the fee-male element in your performances."

"And do you mean to say, Maria, that you're
going out with me in the streets like that?"

"Yes," she says, "I do mean to say it. In
future, Joseph, where you go, I go. I'm sure
it will improve the business, and being with
you, I can always have my eye upon you."

And she did go out with me, sir; and that
was how fee-males was first introduced into the
nigger serenading business. Lots of fellows
have claimed the honour of the inwention; but
it was me as did it, me and Maria.

There's lots of fee-males in the profession
now, but Maria was the first; and if you are in
the History line, perhaps you will be good
enough to put it down.

Thank you, sir, the same as before, with
lemon.

SOWING THE DRAGON'S TEETH.

CADMUS, Agenor's son, the dragon slew,
Hard by the cliff, a monster fierce and vast,
O'ershadowing half Parnassus; herds and men
Had fled his hot breath, helpless and aghast.
Exulting in that conquest, helmed and plumed,
Glittering like Mars, fresh from the battle-field,
The hero shook his ponderous ashen spear,
And waved in the blue air his golden shield.

Disdaining help from either gods or men,
Forgetting Heaven in his boastful pride,
He sought a herdsman's shed and seized the plough,
The goad, and harness shaped from tough bull hide,
And led the large-eyed oxen, crescent horned,
Huge dappled creatures, stalwart, strong of limb,
And drove them to the plain; his Spartan dogs,
Both tired and sullen, lagging after him.

The lowering purple slowly deepening gloomed,
And darkened blacker in the furthest west;
The rooks flew by in drifting funeral lines
Below the eagle's long-since plundered nest.
Then suddenly a gleam of orange fire
Lit up beneath the lowest vapoury bar,
And burnt a gap out, fading gleam by gleam,
Till sparkled forth the first keen evening star.

On went the cleaving share, sharp beaked and keen,
Rippling the fallow in long level rows,
Tearing the sluggish clay with tooth of steel;
Out like a puffing sail his mantle blows,
As 'tween the stilts bends Cadmus at his toil,
Trenching the fresh black earth, and showers of seed
Tossing behind him on the soft rich soil.

Sowing the dragon's teeth; but Jove, intent
To check such pride, now blotted star by star,
And cast forth winds over the new-ploughed lands,
That swept with wild beast howling from afar.
The storm-clouds rolled in billows swift and black,
And slanting rain beat fiercely from the south,
While splashing fire high, high upon the crag,
Lit with a glare each lurid cavern's mouth.

The very mountain torrents shone with flame.
As Cadmus stood beside the steers intent,
Resting the plough and leaning on his goad.
The sky was wrapped in fire, and lightning went
Splintering against Parnassus, then the earth
Teemed with long lines of warriors, file on file,
Gleaming in phalanx threatening to close,
And stretching o'er the plain, mile after mile.

But Cadmus to Minerva knelt and prayed,
Then slew the oxen, and, with cloven plough,
Offered to the wise goddess sacrifice,
And raised his hands to her and bent his brow.
So Zeus relented, and a war began
Between those warriors of the dragon's seed;
Keen swords flash out, and hissing javelins fly,
Helms split, and bucklers cleave, and many bleed.

On tramped the phalanx, as the spearmen ran
Fast to join battle, and the bowmen drew
Up to the head their shafts, and clouds of darts
Poured on the vanguard, while hoarse trumpets blew,
And on the shield smote fast the crashing axe,
While banners rose and fell above the slain
And shouts of wounded giants filled the air,
And charging swordsmen fought o'er that wild plain.

Far as the eye could reach were grappling men;
Long ranks of struggling warriors, lance to lance,
And sword to sword, in the dim twilight moved
Like frenzied vision in a madman's trance;
Legions of warriors rose from out the dark
With supernatural strength, and with the wrath
Of the old giants smitten down by Jove.
Soon the black earth grew red, and red each path.

They fell in swathes, like corn before the steel
Of hurried reapers; ere the sun arose,
They sank where they had risen, rank by rank,
File facing file; then clearer grew the sky,