66 'Alderney," how shall I choose? Is "English" or "Foreign" the better box? Quick! not a moment to lose, In with it into the letter-box Sure to go right in the end: Sorters will sort it-they're paid for itIn with it! I apprehend That if wrong it will not be delayed for it. Many a man is debarred From posting a paper, a letter, a Circular, package, or card By his knowledge of places, &c. Some people, rather than show That they're not very good at topography, Pocket their letters, and go To borrow or buy a geography. Shutters come down with a bang (I never cared for the banging part); Some people mutter "Oh, hang!" Some people vary the hanging part. Never say that in a crowd, Not a judicious experimentExpletives spoken aloud Are but a signal for merriment. Laughs when a letter is gripped, That enter the aperture after it. Put to keep open the box; Harder than fingers and thicker too. Now for the coves that are late: Sometimes there's only a few of them- Sometimes a dozen or two of them. Or let them chance to be numerous, Many and many a time I-very probably most of us- Of six at the General Post Office. And it is sure to amuse Us when we light upon any one A twopenny stamp for a penny one. EDWIN HAMILTON. [From "Dublin Doggerels."-By kind permission of the author.] HUMAN NATURE. Two little children five years old, But you, if you follow my verse, shall see, One day they found in their romp and play Soft and gray, and just of a size, As like each other as your two eyes. All day long the children made love To their dear little pets-their treasure-trove; Too much fondling doesn't agree Had chased the shadows of night away One little pet had gone to the shades, The living and dead lay side by side, And it chanced that the children came singly to view First came Charlie, and, with sad surprise, Howe'er, consolingly, he said, "Poor little Marie-her rabbit's dead!" Later came Marie, and stood aghast; She kissed and caressed it, but at last Found voice to say, while her young heart bled, "I'm sorry for Charlie-his rabbit's dead!" ANONYMOUS. [From "Harper's Magazine."] THE ENCHANTED SHIRT. The King was sick. His cheek was red, But he said he was sick, and a king should know, They did not cure him. He cut off their heads, At last two famous doctors came, The other had never looked in a book; Together they looked at the royal tongue, The old sage said, "You're as sound as a nut." "Hang him up," roared the King in a gale— In a ten-knot gale of royal rage; The other leech grew a shade pale; But he pensively rubbed his sagacious nose, The King will be well, if he sleeps one night Wide o'er the realm the couriers rode, And fast their horses ran, And many they saw, and to many they spoke, They saw two men by the roadside sit, For one had buried his wife, he said, At last they came to a village gate, He whistled, and sang, and laughed, and rolled The weary courtiers paused and looked At the scamp so blithe and gay; And one of them said, "Heaven save you, friend! "O yes, fair sirs," the rascal laughed, And his voice rang free and glad; "An idle man has so much to do That he never has time to be sad." "This is our man," the courier said; I will give you a hundred ducats, friend, The merry blackguard lay back on the grass, And laughed till his face was black; "I would do it, God wot," and he roared with the fun, "But I haven't a shirt to my back." |