While his left hand as well as able,
Conveyed a purse upon the table.
"Tom! with the money let's be off!"
This made the landlord only scoff;
He heard them running down the stair,
But was not tempted from his chair;
Thought he "The fools! I'll bite them yet!
So poor a trick shan't win the bet.'
And loud and long the chorus rose
Of-" Here she goes-and there she goes!"
While right and left his finger swung,
In keeping to his clock and tongue.

His mother happened in, to see
Her daughter; "Where is Mrs. B-?
When will she come, do you suppose,
Son ?"-

"Here she goes-and there she goes!"
"Here!—where ?"--the lady in surprise
His finger followed with her eyes:
"Son! why that steady gaze and sad?
Those words-that motion-are you mad?
"But here's your wife, perhaps she knows,
And"

"Here she goes-and there she goes!"

His wife surveyed him with alarm,
And rushed to him, and seized his arm;
He shook her off, and to and fro
His finger persevered to go,

While curled his very nose with ire

That she against him should conspire;

And with more furious tone arose

The-" Here she goes-and there she goes!"

"Lawks!" screamed the wife, "I'm in a whirl!

Run down and bring the little girl;

She is his darling, and who knows

But "

"Here she goes-and there she goes!"

"Lawks! he is mad! What made him thus
Good Lord! what will become of us?

Run for a doctor-run, run, run—
For Doctor Brown and Doctor Dun,

And Doctor Black and Doctor White,

And Doctor Grey, with all your might!"

The doctors came, and looked, and wondered,

And shook their heads, and paused, and pondered.

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Then one proposed he should be bled—
'No, leeched, you mean," the other said—
'Clap on a blister!" roared another-

No! cup him"-"No! trepan him, brother." A sixth would recommend a purge

The next would an emetic urge

The eighth, just come from a dissection,
His verdict gave for an injection;
The last produced a box of pills,
A certain cure for earthly ills:
"I had a patient yesternight,"

Quoth he," and wretched was her plight,
And as the only means to save her,
Three dozen patent pills I gave her;
And by to-morrow I suppose

That'

"Here she goes-and there she goes!"

"You are all fools!" the lady said— "The way is just to shave his head. Run! bid the barber come anon."

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Thanks, mother!" thought her clever son;

"You help the knaves that would have bit me,

But all creation shan't outwit me!"

Thus to himself while to and fro

His finger perseveres to go,

And from his lips no accent flows

But-" Here she goes-and there she goes!"

The barber came-"Lord help him! what
A queerish customer I've got;

But we must do our best to save him-
So hold him, gemmen, while I shave him!"
But here the doctors interpose—

"A woman never".

"There she goes!"

"A woman is no judge of physic,

Not even when her baby is sick.

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He must be bled "—" No, no, a blister".

"A purge, you mean -"I say a clyster

"No, cup him". "Leech him". -"Pills! pills! pills!" And all the house the uproar fills.

What means that smile? what means that shiver?

The landlord's limbs with rapture quiver,

And triumph brightens up his face

His finger yet shall win the race;

The clock is on the stroke of nine-
And up he starts-""Tis mine! 'tis mine!"
"What do you mean ?"

"I mean the fifty;

I never spent an hour so thrifty-
But you who tried to make me lose,
Go, burst with envy, if you choose!
But how is this? where are they ?"

"The gentlemen-I mean the two
Came yesterday—are they below ?"
"They galloped off an hour ago."

66

66

"Who ?"

Oh, purge me! blister! shave and bleed! For, hang the knaves, I'm mad indeed!"

19.-I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. REV. R. H. BARHAM.

[See page 496.]

I REMEMBER, I remember,
When I was a little boy
One fine morning in December
Uncle brought me home a toy;
I remember how he patted

Both my cheeks in kindliest mood; "Then," said he, "you little fat-head, There's a top because you're good."

Grandmamma, a shrewd observer,
I remember gazed upon

My new top, and said with fervour,
"Oh! how kind of Uncle John!"
While mamma, my form caressing,
In her eye the tear-drop stood,
Read me this fine moral lesson,

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'See what comes of being good."

I remember, I remember,

On a wet and windy day, One cold morning in December, I stole out and went to play;

I remember Billy Dawkins

Came, and with his pewter squirt Squibbed my pantaloons and stockings Till they were all over dirt.

To my mother for protection

I

ran, quaking every limb;

She exclaimed with fond affection,

20. THE BACHELOR'S LAMENT. H. G. BELL.

THEY'RE stepping off, the friends I knew, They're going one by one :

They're taking wives, to tame their livesTheir jovial days are done:

I can't get one old crony now

To join me in a spree;

They're all grown grave domestic men,
They look askance on me.

I hate to see them sobered down-
The merry boys and true;

I hate to hear them sneering now
At pictures fancy drew;

I care not for their married cheer,
Their puddings and their soups,
And middle-aged relations round
In formidable groups

And though their wife perchance may have
A comely sort of face,

And at the table's upper end

Conduct herself with grace

I hate the prim reserve that reigns,
The caution and the state;

I hate to see my friend grow vain
Of furniture and plate.

How strange! they go to bed at ten,
And rise at half-past nine;
And seldom do they now exceed
A pint or so of wine:

They play at whist for sixpences,
They very rarely dance,

They never read a word of rhyme,
Nor open a romance.

They talk, indeed, of politics,
Of taxes and of crops,

And very quietly, with their wives,
They go about to shops;

They get quite skilled in groceries,
And learned in butcher-meat,
And know exactly what they pay
For everything they eat.

And then they all have children, too,
To squall through thick and thin,
And seem quite proud to multiply
Small images of sin;

And yet you may depend upon't,
Ere half their days are told,
Their sons are taller than themselves,
And they are counted old.

Alas! alas! for years gone by,

And for the friends I've lost,
When no warm feeling of the heart
Was chilled by early frost.
If these be Hymen's vaunted joys,
I'd have him shun my door,
Unless he'll quench his torch, and live
Henceforth a bachelor.

21.-NOTHING TO WEAR.

W. A. BUTLER.

MISS FLORA M'FLIMSEY, of Madison-square,
Has made three separate journeys to Paris;
And her father assures me, each time she was there,
That she and her friend, Mrs. Harris

(Not the lady whose name is so famous in history, But plain Mrs. H., without romance or mystery),