The RnSfIP.
{"newspaper_name": "Indiana State sentinel.", "edition": "01", "page": "p4", "byline": ""}
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Haste, Venus daughter of the purple wave,


Unveil on earth thy radiant charms no more.
HE, maid OF beauty, TO thy coral cave,


Thy peerless reign, alas too soon is Ger.
Nor longer ye artless graces rise,


Your forms in sweet perfection to display
Love, grace and beauty, with the goddess dies,


Since now la mode pIoclaims the "Bustle's" sway.
Hail, humpbacked muse if such there be,
Of gods begat or of the briny sea.
List 10 my song, sweet goddess now attend,
And with my verse thy humPest numbers blend.
From Helicon, from Parnassus' height,
Look DER my page and guide my pen Alright
Tell me, ye daughters of the tuneful Nine,
If one of you e'er hump behind
Tell me, We sisters of the graceful Three,
If such hump of you there he
Oh say sweet goddess OF the nimble chase,
Does such hump your outward woman gracei
Procaimit mistress of The rosy morn,
Does such hump your outward Eve adorn?
Speak, gentle Hebe, fairest of the fair,
And it hump thou has sweet goddess, tell us where
Hail, beaueous Psyche whom artless Nature best,
With charms by far more perfect than the rest;
La praise of whom both gods and men combine,
Say, lovely spre, wear'st thou hump behind:
IN vain, alas the sculptors godlke art,
Bids grace and beauty into being start
In vain, he mouds the female form divine,
If Venus lacks extra hump behind!
10 vain Apollo strikes the tuneful Tyre,
And all the MUSES. in her praise conspre
Even Poets sing, mid Tempe's iowery maze,
And Gods combine to utter forth her praise
All, no 'mong all i'm VAIN | seek to find,
A maid who shapeless hump behind.
Proclaim IT, daughters OF The tuneful choir,
And touch my song with notes of liquid fire,
Whilst now sing of etiquette the laws,
Extol la mode, and plead "Buste's" cause
Hail, beauteous hump mysterious hustle say
Of flesh and blood, of rags, or bran, or hay,
Art thou composed, and dOst thou claim
local situation and a name?


Say whence thou Sprang, and what thy and end,
Ard these promise with my verse TO blend,
Thou art, indeed, the pride of every belle,
Who delights al all to cut an extra s,oeu
And by thy aid, secure the utmost honor
That feathers, rags or hay, can heap upon her.
know of humps, at least score in all,
Which have been worn from time immemorial
To wit the back, the shoulders and tis saId
That humps abound upon the smOothest head.
Now, if from these paternity you claim,
Then tell me, pray what is your proper name?
Some call thee "Bishop," "B1nkey, "TOwnurc,''
And others, by at least dozen more.
But now forsooth, myself will call thee "BuStte,"
Which means, you know, to frisk about and hustle,
Or move, at least, within so small a compass,
AS not to raise riot, row, or rarmPus


But these aside In thee alone we 6nd
Love, grace and beauty, in one heap combin'd-
In thee alone, new beauties rise and live,
Which only art and etiquette can give.
Among the grave the gay, the sad merry,
Each maid displays a hump Ia Dromedary;
The rich, the poor tho duns and debts enlrammeI,
Are found equipped la a Ia mode de Camel.


The young the DID, though long since tired of fashion
Alike delight The extra lump 10 lash on.
In TRUTH It's strange the Gods should thus mistake,
And place such beauties Drome' Us back,
When Venus sure, this mark of grace should claim,
And raise complete, her beauty back, and fame.
Hail, wond rous age! when Natures perfect law
Resigns the contest to a bag of straw;


When fashion bold embracing every whm,
Augments the form where Nature fain would trim,
And taste, tickle the heeting wind,
/ Must needs attach an extra hump behind;


While youth and beauty, bending meath the load,
\ Become martyr TO the laws dc mode.


But, spite Of these, I'll plead "Bustle's' cause,


Exto la mode, and emulate the laws,


The age the custom, etiquette and taste,


The largest hustle, and the senderest waist;
And if for these, Pm favored by the fair
! I'll add the grace, the manners and the air,


For all are written in that perfect code,


The Laws Of Fashion, or in French, la mode
| ORIE