“and even our women,” lastly grumbles Ben,
“Leaving their nature, dress and talk like men!”
A damsel, as our train stops at Five Ashes,
Down to the station in a dog-cart dashes.
A footman buys her thicket, “Third class, parly;”
And, in the huge-buttoned coat and “Champagne Charley”
And such scant manhood else as use allows her,
Her two...