Deceived by that well-mimicked brogue in his ears,
Pat read his own doom in these wool-headed figures,
And thought, what a climate, in less than two years,
To turn a whole cargo of Pats into niggers!

MORAL.

'Tis thus, but alas!-by a marvel more true

Than is told in this rival of Ovid's best stories,-
Your Whigs, when in office a short year or two,
By a lusus naturæ, all turn into Tories.

And thus, when I hear them "strong measures" advise,
Ere the seats that they sit on have time to get steady,
I say, while I listen with tears in my eyes,

"Dear me!-only think-black and curly already!"

THOMAS MOORE.

HOW THEY BROUGHT

THE GOOD NEWS

FROM GHENT TO AIX.

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he;

I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;

"Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew, "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through.

Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,

And into the midnight we galloped abreast.

Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace,

Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;

I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
Then shortened each stirrup and set the pique right,
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.

'T was a moonset at starting; but while we drew near
Lokeren, the cocks crew, and twilight dawned clear;
At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;
At Düffeld 't was morning as plain as could be;

And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"

At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun,
And against him the cattle stood black every one,
To stare, through the mist, at us galloping past;
And I saw my stout galloper, Roland, at last,
With resolute shoulders, each butting away
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray;

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;
And one eye's black intelligence,-ever that glance
O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance;
And the thick, heavy spume-flakes, which aye and anon
His fierce lips shook upward in galloping on.

By Hasselt Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!
Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her,
We'll remember at Aix,"-for one heard the quick wheeze
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck, and staggering knees,
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,

As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.

So we were left galloping, Joris and I,

Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;

The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh;

'Neath our feet broke the brittle, bright stubble like chaff; Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,

And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!"

"How they'll greet us!"-and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;

And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight

Of the news which alone conld save Aix from her fate,
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.

Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall,
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,

Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,

Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer,—

Clapped my hands, laughed and sung, any noise, bad or good,
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.

And all I remember, is friends flocking round,

As I sate with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground;
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,

As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
Was no more than his due who brought good news from

Ghent.

ROBERT BROWNING.

HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY ON DEATH.

[This piece is admitted to be one of the most difficult to read in the English language, requiring nice discrimination and great powers of elocution. It is one of Shakspeare's most admirable productions. The reader should perfectly understand and thoroughly feel the sentiments which it contains, commencing deliberately on a middle key; indignation should be expressed as the prince enumerates particulars, the voice should gradually rise in the second paragraph; the conclusion requires quantity and rather slow time.]

To be or not to be-that is the question!
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The stings and arrows of outrageous fortune,-—

Or, to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And, by opposing, end them.-To die?-to sleep ;

No more; and, by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to:-'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd! To die;—to sleep;—

To sleep? perchance to dream;-aye, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause!

There's the respect

That makes calamity of so long life;

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,