Hung suspended in air, at the end of a thread.

Then the Grasshopper came with a jerk and a spring,
Very long was his leg, though but short was his wing;

He took but three leaps, and was soon out of sight,
Then chirped his own praises the rest of the night.
With step so majestic the Snail did advance,
And promised the gazers a minuet to dance.

But they all laughed so loud that he pulled in his head,
And went in his own little chamber to bed.
Then, as evening gave way to the shadows of night,
Their watchman, the Glow-worm, came out with a light.

Then home let us hasten, while yet we can see,
For no watchman is waiting for you and for me.
So said little Robert, and, pacing along,
His merry companions returned in a throng.
MRS. HENRY ROSCOE.

REPORT OF A CASE, NOT TO BE FOUND IN ANY OF THE BOOKS

B

Decisive and clear, without one if or but— That whenever the nose put his spectacles on By day-light or candle-light-eyes should be shut. WILLIAM Cowper,

I've scolded my team till I'm hoarse; I've tramped till my legs are weak;

I've choked a dozen swears, (so's no* to tell Jane fibs),

When the plow-pint struck a stone and the handles punched my ribs.

I've put my team in the barn, and rubbed their sweaty coats;

I've fed 'em a heap of hay and half a bushel of oats; And to see the way they eat makes me like eatin' feel,

And Jane wont say to-night that I don't make out a meal.

arose;

The spectacles set them unhappily wrong;

The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,

To which the said spectacles ought to belong.

So the tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning; While chief baron ear sat to balance the laws,

So famed for his talent in nicely discerning.

In behalf of the nose, it will quickly appear,

And your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find, That the nose has had spectacles always in wear, Which amounts to possession time out of mind.

Then, holding the spectacles up to the court-
Your lordship observes they are made with a straddle
As wide as the ridge of the nose is; in short,

Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.
Again, would your lordship a moment suppose
('Tis a case that has happened, and may be again,)
That the visage or countenance had not a nose,
Pray who would or who could wear spectacles then?

On the whole it appears, and my argument shows,
With a reasoning the court will never condemn,
That the spectacles plainly were made for the nose,
And the nose was as plainly intended for them.

Then shifting his side, as the lawyer knows how,
He pleaded again in behalf of the eyes;
But what were the arguments few people know,

For the world did not think they were equally wise.

key,

Under the step, in a place known only to her and me; I wonder who's dyin' or dead, that she's hustled off pell-mell;

But here on the table's a note, probably this will tell. Good God! my wife is gone! my wie is gone astray! The letter it says, "Good-bye, for I'm a going away ; I've lived with you six months, John, and so far I've been true;

But I'm going away to-day with a handsomer man than you."

A han'somer man than me! Why that ain't much to say;

There's han'somer men than me go past here every day.

There's han'somer men than me-I ain't of the han'some kind;

But a loven' er man than I was, I guess she'll never find.

Curse her! curse her! I say, and give my curses wings!

May the words of love I've spoken be changed to scorpion stings!

Oh, she filled my heart with joy, she emptied my heart of doubt,

And now with the scratch of a pen, she lets my heart's blood out!

Curse her! curse her! say I, she'll some time rue this day;

She'll some time learn that hate is a game that two can play;

apart.

scorn.

when she

Will read the devilish heart of that han'somer man

than me;

And there'll be a time when he will find, as others do, That she who is false to one, can be the same with two.

And when her face grows pale, and when her eyes grow dim,

And when he is tired of her and she is tired of him, She'll do what she ought to have done, and coolly count the cost;

And then she'll see things clear, and know what she

has lost.

to pray,

And kneel as you used to knell, before you run

away.

And if I thought I could bring my words on heaven to bear,

And if I thought I had some little influence there,
I would pray that I might be, if it only could be so,
As happy and gay as I was half an hour ago.
JANE [entering].

Why, John, what a litter here! you've thrown things all around?

Come, what's the matter now? and what have you lost or found?

And she will mourn and cry for what she has left behind;

man than you."

no!

And yet in her girlish heart there was somethin' or other she had,

That fastened a man to her, and wasn't entirely bad; And she loved me a little, I think, although it didn't last;

crossed your track?

I was only a joking you know, I'm willing to take it back.

JOHN [aside].

Well, now, if this ain't a joke, with rather a bitter cream!

so queer,

blur;

It seems when I look at that, as if 'twas holdin' her; And here are her week-day shoes, and there is her week-day hat,

And yonder's her weddin' gown: I wonder she didn't take that.

'Twas only this mornin' she came and called me her "dearest dear,"

And said I was makin' for her a regular paradise here;

O God! if you want a man to sense the pains of hell, Before you pitch him in just keep him in heaven a spell!

hell.

WILL M. CArleton.

AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG.

OOD people all, of every sort,

Give ear unto my song, And, if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a man,

Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ranWhene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he cladWhen he put on his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found,

As many dogs there be,

Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;
But, when a pique began,

The dog, to gain his private ends,
Went mad, and bit the man.

Around from all the neighboring streets
The wondering neighbors ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.

The wound it seemed both sore and sad
To every Christian eye;

And, while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light,
That showed the rogues they lied;
The man recovered of the bite,
The dog it was that died.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

THE BAGGAGE-FIEND.

WAS a ferocious baggage-man, with Atlantean back,

And biceps upon each arm piled in a formidable stack,

That plied his dread vocation beside-a railroad track.

Wildly he tossed the baggage round the platform there, pell-mell,

And crushed to naught the frail bandbox where'er it shapeless fell,

Or stove the "Saratoga" like the flimsiest eggshell.

On ironclads, especially, he fell full ruthlessly,
And eke the trunk derisively called "Cottage by the
Sea ;"

And pulled and hauled and rammed and jammed the same vindictively,

Until a yearning breach appeared, or fractures two or three,

Or straps were burst, or lids fell off, or some catas trophe

Crowned his Satanic zeal or moved his diabolic glee. The passengers surveyed the wreck with diverse discontent,

And some vituperated him, and some made loud lament,

But wrath or lamentation on him were vainly spent.

To him there came a shambling man, sad-eyed and meek and thin,

Bearing an humble carpet-bag, with scanty stuff therein,

And unto that fierce baggage-man he spake, with quivering chin:

"Behold this scanty carpet-bag! I started a month

ago,

With a dozen Saratoga trunks, hat box, and portmanteau,

But baggage-men along the route have brought me down so low.

"Be careful with this carpet-bag, kind sir," said he to him.

The baggage-man received it with a smile extremely grim,

And softly whispered, "Mother, may I go out to swim ?"

Then fiercely jumped upon that bag in wild, sardonic spleen,

And into countless fragments flew-to his profound chagrin

For that lank bag contained a pint of nitro-glycerine. The stranger heaved a gentle sigh, and stroked his quivering chin,

And then he winked with one sad eye, and said, with smile serene,

"The stuff to check a baggage-man is nitro-glycerine!"

THE LAND O' THE LEAL

'M wearing awa', Jean,

Like snaw when it's a thaw, Jean,

I'm wearing awa'

To the land o' the leal.

There's nae sorrow there Jean,
There's neither cauld nor care, Jean
The day is aye fair

In the land o' the leal.

Ye were aye leal and true, Jean;
Your task's ended noo, Jean,
And I'll welcome you

To the land o' the leal.
Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean,
She was baith guid and fair, Jean;
Oh, we grudged her right sair

To the land o' the leal.
Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean,
My soul langs to be free, Jean,
And angels wait on me

To the land o' the leal.
Now fare ye weel, my ain Jean
This warld's care is vain, Jean;
We'll meet and aye be fain
In the land o' the leal.

CAROLINA, BARONESS NAIK

P

POOR LITTLE JOE.

ROP yer eyes wide open, Joey,

For I've brought you sumpin' great.
Apples! No, a heap sight better!

Don't you take no int'rest? Wait! Flowers, Joe-I knowed you'd like 'emAin't them scrumptious? Ain't them high? Tears, my boy? Wot's them fur, Joey? There-poor little Joe !-don't cry!

I was skippin' past a winder,
Where a bang-up lady sot,
All amongst a lot of bushes-

Each one climbin' from a pot;
Every bush had flowers on it-

Pretty? Mebbe not! Oh, no! Wish you could a seen 'em growin', It was sich a stunnin' show.

Well, I thought of you, poor feller,
Lyin' here so sick and weak,
Never knowin' any comfort,

And I puts on lots o' cheek.
Missus," says I, "if you please, mum,
Could I ax you for a rose?
For my little brother, missus—
Never seed one, I suppose."

Then I told her all about you-
How I bringed you up-poor Joe!
(Lackin' women folks to do it.)

Sich a' imp you was, you know~
Till yer got that awful tumble,
Jist as I had broke yer in
(Hard work, too,) to earn yer livin'
Blackin' boots for honest tin.

How that tumble crippled of you,
So's you couldn't hyper much-
Joe, it hurted when I seen you

Fur the first time with your crutch.
But," I says, "he's laid up now, mum,
'Pears to weaken every day;"
Joe, she up and went to cuttin’—
That's the how of this bokay.

Say! It seems to me, ole feller,
You is quite yerself to-night;
Kind o'chirk-it's been a fortnit

Sence yer eyes has been so bright.
Better? Well, I'm glad to hear it!

Yes, they're mighty pretty, Joe. Smellin' of 'em's made you happy? Well, I thought it would, you know!

Never see the country, did you?

Flowers growin' everywhere! Some time when you're better, Joey, Mebbe I kin take you there.

Flowers in heaven? 'M-I s'pose so;
Dunno much about it, though;
Ain't as fly as wot I might be
On them topics, little Joe.

But I've heard it hinted somewheres
That in heaven's golden gates
Things is everlastin' cheerful—

B'lieve that's wot the Bible states.
Likewise, there folks don't git hungry;
So good people, when they dies,
Finds themselves well fixed forever-
Joe, my boy, wot ails yer eyes?

Thought they looked a little sing❜ler.
Oh, no! Don't you have no fear;
Heaven was made fur such as you is-
Joe, wot makes you look so queer?
Here-wake up! Oh, don't look that way!
Joe! My boy! Hold up yer head!

Here's yer flowers-you dropped 'em Joey!
Oh, my God, can Joe be dead?

DAVID L. PROUDFIT (Peleg Arkwright.)

And their king it is who tolls
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls,

A pæan from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells

With the pean of the bells!
And he dances and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the pean of the bells-
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the throbbing of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells-

To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,

As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,

To the rolling of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells—

To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells—
Bells, bells, bells-

To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.