Who marred my stealthy urchin joys, My Sister. Who stroked my head, and said, "Good lad," But at the stall the coin was bad? My Godfather. Who, gratis, shared my social glass, Through all this weary world, in brief, Myself. MRS. BROWN AND MRS. GREEN.-G. L. BANKS A very fair Christian is good Mrs. Brown, Not molesting her friend who lives over the way; That her words and her conduct do always agree. For this little maxim she shrewdly commends Good precept and practice should ever be friends!" A very warm Christian is good Mrs. Green, In her satins, and velvets, and rich armazine; And 't has oft been remarked, with good reason, no doubt, For this little maxim she shrewdly commends- Mrs. Green, now and then, for an hour, sits in state "That precept and practice should ever be friends!" In the street where resides our good friend Mrs. Brown The reticule's sure to be had in request; For this little maxim she shrewdly commends "Good precept and practice should ever be friends!" Mrs. Green has a sympathy deep and refined, If a party of ladies propose a bazaar To enlighten the natives of rude Zanzibar, "That precept and practice should ever be friends!" Mrs. Brown is a stranger to parties and sects, There are few Mrs. Browns-not a few Mrs. Greens, There are thousands who'll preach, lend their names, and give rules, But how few are provided with small reticules! With the world, Mrs. Green, as a saint, will go down— Who in word, and in deed, the trite maxim commends"Good precept and practice should ever be friends!" CLEOPATRA'S BARGE.-SHAKSPEARE. The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne, Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver; Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water, which they beat, to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, The fancy out-work nature; on either side her, Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, So many mermaids, tended her 'i the eyes, ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.-GEN. LYTLE, I am dying, Egypt, dying, Listen to the great heart-secrets, Though my scarred and veteran legions Though no glittering guards surround me, Let not Cæsar's servile minions 'Twas no foeman's arm that felled him- I am dying, Egypt, dying; Hark! the insulting foeman's cry. Ah! no more amid the battle Shall my heart exulting swell- LOCKED OUT. Those who carry latch-keys can readily realize my sensations when I found I had left it in town. To wake the inmates was a matter of disturbing the whole neighborhood; I therefore determined (after waiting thirty minutes for a policeman,) to effect an entrance by the staircase window. I must mention that my house is one of a short row, in which there live a butcher, baker, and chemist—each of whom keeps a dog or dogs, more or less vicious, according to the amiableness of its owner. Having determined to attempt the great window feat, I went round to the back of the house and looked over the paling. Scarcely had I raised my head, than Boo-woowoo!" went a dog with whom I had some slight acquaintance. I addressed it soothingly by its Christian name, "Gip." The sound of my voice set the remainder of the dogs off, and in less than a minute there was a row only equalled by 'a pack in full cry." This naturally woke some of the nobler animals; and one gentle female with a shrieky voice put her head out of the window and asked, in a hysterical tone, who was there. The ever-ready answer, " Me," burst forth, regardless of grammar. "Where are the police?" "Precisely what I have been asking myself for the last thirty minutes," answered I. At this juncture I attempted a laugh, and nearly overbal. anced myself, and in regaining my position, I kicked the palings on which I was seated, so vigorously, that off went the dogs louder than before, and several more windows went up. At the chemist's appeared something that looked like Robinson Crusoe, ably supported by La Somnambula in a nightcap. "What's the matter?" sensibly asked a third window. "Matter?" shrieked all the windows together; but their explanation was lost in the general howl of dogs. "You shall hear of this in the morning," said one irrepressible female. "It strikes me I am hearing of it, very much of it—in the morning; you mean later in the day. Call to lunch," said I "and let's have it out." The windows went down with a bang, and I went off the palings with another, falling within a yard of a beautiful bull-mastiff, who showed me the perfect order in which he |