I

WROTE some lines once on a time

In wondrous merry mood,

And thought, as usual, men would say
They were exceeding good.

They were so queer, so very queer,
I laughed as I would die;
Albeit, in the general way,

A sober man am I.

I called my servant, and he came;
How kind it was of him,

To mind a slender man like me,
He of the mighty limbl

"These to the printer," I exclaimed, And, in my humorous way,

I added (as a trifling jest),
"There'll be the devil to pay."

He took the paper, and I watched,

And saw him peep within;

At the first line he read, his face
Was all upon the grin.

He read the next; the grin grew broad,
And shot from ear to ear;

He read the third; a chuckling noise
I now began to hear.

The fourth; he broke into a roar;

The fifth; his waistband split;
The sixth; he burst five buttons off,
And tumbled in a fit.

Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye,
I watched that wretched man,
And since, I never dare to write
As funny as I can.

-Oliver Wendell Ho'mes.

"O elderly man, it's little I know
Of the duties of men of the sea,
And I'll eat my hand if I understand
How you can possibly be

"At once a cook and a captain bold,
And a mate of the Nancy brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig "

Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which
Is a trick all seamen larn,

And having got rid of a thumping quid

He spun this painful yarn:—

"'Twas in the good ship Nancy Bell

That we sailed to the Indian Sea, And there on a a reef we came to grief, Which has often occurred to me.

"And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned (There was seventy-seven o' soul);

And only ten of the Nancy's men

Said Here' to the muster-roll.

[bold,

"There was me, and the cook, and the captain
And the mate of the Nancy brig.
And the bo'sun tight and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig.

"For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink,
Till a-hungry we did feel,

So we drawed a lot, and accordin', shot
The captain for our meal.

"The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate,
And a delicate dish he made;
Then our appetite with the midshipmite
We seven survivors stayed.

"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight,
And he much resembled pig;

Then we wittled free, did the cook and me,
On the crew of the captain's gig.

"Then only the cook and me was left,
And the delicate question, 'Which
Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose,
And we argued it out as sich.

་་

"So he boils the water, and takes the salt And the pepper in portions true

(Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot,

And some sage and parsley too.

"Come here,' says he, with a proper pride. Which his smiling features tell;

"'T will soothing be if I let you see

How extremely nice you'll smell.'

"And he stirred it round, and round, and round, And he sniffed at the foaming froth;

When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals

In the scum of the boiling broth.

"And I eat that cook in a week or less,

And as I eating be

The last of his chops, why I almost drops, For a vessel in sight I see.

*

"And I never larf, and I never smile,
And I never lark nor play;
But I sit and croak, and a single joke
I have which is to say:

"O, I am a cook and a captain bold
And the mate of the Nancy brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig !"
--W. S. Gilbert.

UNTO

NTO a little negro, A-swimming in the Nile, Appeared quite unexpectedly, A hungry crocodile.

Who, with that chill politeness

That makes the warm blood freeze, Remarked: 'I'll take some dark meat

་་

Without dressing, if you please."

A JOLLY fat friar loved liquor good store,

And he had drunk stoutly at supper;

He mounted his horse in the night at the door,

And sat with his face to the crupper:

"Some rogue," quoth the friar, "quite dead to remorse, Some thief, whom a halter will throttle,

Some scoundrel has cut off the head of my horse,

While I was engaged at the bottle,

Which went gluggity, gluggity—glugglug-glug."

The tail of the steed pointed south on the dale, 'T was the friar's road home, straight and level; But when spurred, a horse follows his nose, not his tai', So he scampered due north, like a devil: "This new mode of docking," the friar then said,

WE

E are two travelers, Roger and I. Roger s my dog;-come here, you scamp! Jump for the gentleman,-mind your eye! Over the table,-look out for the lamp,The rogue is growing a little old :

Five years we've tramped through wind and weather,

And slept out-doors when nights were cold,
And ate and drank-and starved together.
We've learned what comfort is, I tell you!
A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin,

A fire to thaw our thumbs (poor fellow !
The paw he holds up there's been frozen,)
Plenty of catgut for my fiddle,

(This out door business is bad for strings,) Then a few nice buckwheats, hot from the griddle, And Roger and I set up for kings!

I'd sell out heaven for something warm To prop a horrible inward sinking.

Is there a way to forget to think?

At your age, sir, home, fortune and friends, A dear girl's love,-but I took to drink,—

The same old story; you know how it ends. If you could have seen these classic features,-You needn't laugh sir; they were not then Such a burning libel on God's creatures: I was one of your handsome men !

If you had seen her, so fair and young,
Whose head was happy on this breast!
If you could have heard the songs I sung

When the wine went round, you wouldn't have guessed

That ever I, sir, should be straying

From door to door, with fiddle and dog,

Ragged and penniless, and playing

To you to-night for a glass of grog!

She's married since, -a parson's wife:

'Twas better for her that we should part,Better the soberest, prosiest life

Than a blasted home and a broken heart.