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"But, brother sinner, pray explain
How 'tis that yon are not in pain;

What pow'r hath work'd a wonder for thy toes:
Whilst I, just like a snail am crawling,
Now swearing, now on saints devoutly bawling,

Whilst not a rascal comes to ease my woes;
How is't that you can like a greyhound go,

Merry as if that nought had happened—burn ye!" "Why," cried the other, grinning, "you must know

That just before I ventur'd on my journey,

To walk a little more at ease,

I took the liberty to boil my peas."


It chanc'd on a time that an Irish dear honey,
Who had just received a small trifle of money:
Took it into his head to dispose of his riches,
In what he much wanted, a good pair of breeches!
In these modish days they've acquir'd a new name,
But breeches or small clothes, why sure, they're the

same! His purse stuff d with chink, and his heart full of glee, Pat soon found a shop to his mind, d'ye see? On a prime piece of stuff now his eyes quickly casting, And asking the name, he was told " everlasting!" "If it be everlasting," quoth Pat, with a leer, "By the holy St. Patrick! I'll -purchase two pair .'"


Wedlock is a ticklish thing,

Hey merrily ho, and ho merrily hey;

And will joy or sorrow bring,
Hey merrily ho, hey ho!

Oh, how delightful pass their days away,

Who, never spiteful, only toy and play.

Spo&m]—Will you take a walk this morning, my love? Yes, my dear. Then you had better pnt on your clogs, my chicken, for fear of catching cold. And pray do you put on your great coat, lest you might increase your cough. Thank you, my darling, fur your care of me. When do you intend to instruct our new willa on Ampstead Eath. Vhy as soon as them 'ere artichecks sends in their demensions, and so on. Don't forget to have towers and such like things, to make it look all the world as though it wur a little castle. I von't, I von't ; and I'll have a worander in front, that you may look at the folk go up and down on a Sunday arternoon. Can't we cover the front with shells to make it look like a, like a—1 know, a emintage yon means. Yes, my dear. So ve vill, my duck. Oh,'

Wedlock's joys are soft and sweet,
Hey merrily ho, and ho merrily hey!

When fond hearts in union meet,
Hey merrily ho, hey ho!

Let us only change the scene,
Ho terrible hey, and hey terrible ho!

Take a peep behind the screen,
Ho terrible ho, hey ho!

What she proposes, be it good or bad,

He still opposes till he drives her mad.

Spoken]—Do you dine at home to-day, sir? I can't tell, ma'am. What shall I provide? What you like. Would you like a roasted chicken? You know I don't like roasted chicken. Well, boiled then? Worse and worse. What will you have then? Nothing. Very well, sir. Very well, ma'am. I say, Mr. Shrimp, vhen am I to have that 'ere new polese, vhich you promised me? Vhen you treats a gemman like a gemman, and conducts yourself like a lady. O, not till then. No. Wery veil, sir, then you will let me perish with cold. That I'm sure you von't, for you are alvays in ot vater. O, I vish you vere—At the devil; I knows you do, but I'll live a few years longer on purpose to plague you. Thus

Wedlock is a dreadful state,

Ho terrible hey, and hey terrible ho!

When cold hearts are joined by fate,
Ho terrible ho, hey ho!


Cardinal Wolsey was a man

Of an unbounded stomach, Shakspeare says.
* Meaning, (in metaphor,) for ever puffing,

To swell beyond his size and span;

But had he seen a player in our days

Enacting Falstaff without stuffing,

He would have owned that Wolsey's bulk ideal
Equalled not that within the bounds
This actor's belt surrounds, „

Which is, moreover, all alive and reaL

This player, when the peace enabled shoals

Of our odd fishes
To visit every clime between the poles,
Swam with the stream, a histrionic Kraken,

Although his wishes
Must not, in this proceeding, be mistaken;
For he went out professionally,—bent
To see how money may be made, not spent.

In this most laudable employ

He found himself at Lille one afternoon, And, that he might the breeze enjoy,

And catch a peep at the ascending moon, Out of the town he took a stroll, Refreshing in the fields his soul, With sight of streams, and trees, and snowy fleeces, And thoughts of crowded houses and new pieces.

When we are pleasantly employed time flies;
He counted up his profits, in the skies,

Until the moon began to shine,
On which he gazed awhile, and then

Pulled out his watch, and cried—" Past nine, Why, zounds, they shut the gates at ten."—

Backward he turn'd his steps instanter,

Stumping along with might and main;

And, though 'tis plain
He couldn't gallop, trot, or canter,

(Those who had seen him would confess it) he

Marched well for one of such obesity. Eyeing his watch, and now his forehead mopping,

He puffed and blew along the road, ' • Afraid of melting, more afraid of stopping,

When in his path he met a clown

Returning from the town. Tell me," he panted, in a thawing state, "Dost think I can get in friend, at the gate?"

"Get in !" replied the hesitating loon, Measuring with his eye our bulky wight, '' Why—yes, Sir,—I should think you might,'

"A load of hay went in this afternoon."


Deeply shadow' d by the night,
On the platform'4 tower he stands;

And his lonely hour is bright
With the dream of conquer'd lands,
Where his chosen bands have striven;

Where his plumed host appears,

And its soaring eagle bears

Its boast of blood and tears
Unto heaven!

Hush'd in silent midnight sleep

The city lies below;
And the watch-call hoarse and deep,

As he paceth to and fro,
Sternly breaks its deep repose.
Lo! kindling one by one,
A thousand lights are shown;
Each meteor-like and lone

Brightly glows!

"Say! hath the licensed hour, With years of danger bought,

Hath the wine-cup's wanton power To my hardy veterans taught Deeds of riot—rapine—shame?

Have they bade yon flames arise

To tell the crimson skies

That the stain of outrage lies
On our name?

"Or doth my warriors' mirth

Yon fires in triumph raise, To scare the shuddering earth

With the terrors of their blaze?

Like a flag of war unfurl'd, Doth yon flood of radiance flow From our camp ?"—" Invader,—no! Tis a beacon-fire, whose glow

Cheers the world !"—

"Lo! its fury rageth higher,

Column'd upward to the sky, Like that pyramid of fire Gleaming of old, on high To guide the people of the Lord.— Soldiers of Fame! come forth,— Let the Empress of the North Note your valour's daring worth, At my word.

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