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Till then, but what she knew not, of completeness:
Being used but sisterly salutes to feel,

Insipid things like sandwiches of veal.

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He took her hand, and soon she felt him wring
The pretty fingers all, instead of one;
Anon his stealthy arm began to cling

About her waist that had been clasped by none;
Their dear confessions I forbear to sing,

Since cold description would but be outrun;
For bliss and Irish watches have the power
In twenty minutes to lose half an hour!

OVER THE WAY.

"I sat over against a window where there stood a pot with very pretty flowers; and had my eyes fixed on it, when on a sudden the window opened, and a young lady appeared whose beauty struck me."-ARABIAN NIGHTS.

ALAS! the flames of an unhappy lover
About my heart and on my vitals prey;
I've caught a fever that I can't get over,
Over the way!

O! why are eyes of hazel? noses Grecian?
I've lost my rest by night, my peace by day,
For want of some brown Holland or Venetian,
Over the way!

I've gazed too often, till my heart's as lost
As any needle in a stack of hay:
Crosses belong to love, and mine is crossed
Over the way!

I cannot read or write, or thoughts relax –
Of what avail Lord Althorpe or Earl Grey?
They cannot ease me of my window-tax

Over the way!

Even on Sunday my devotions vary,
And from St. Bennet Flint they go astray
To dear St. Mary Overy-the Mary
Over the way!

O! if my godmother were but a fairy,
With magic wand, how I would beg and pray
That she would change me into that canary
Over the way!

I envy everything that's near Miss Lindo,
A pug, a poll, a squirrel or a jay

Blest blue-bottles! that buzz about the window
Over the way!

Even at even, for there be no shutters,

I see her reading on, from grave to gay,
Some tale or poem, till the candle gutters,
Over the way!

And then ·O! then

while the clear waxen taper

Emits, two stories high, a starlike ray,
I see twelve auburn curls put into paper
Over the way!

But how breathe unto her my deep regards,
Or ask her for a whispered ay or nay,-
Or offer her my hand, some thirty yards
Over the way!

Cold as the pole she is to my adoring;
Like Captain Lyon, at Repulse's Bay,
I meet an icy end to my exploring

Over the way!

Each dirty little Savoyard that dances

She looks on-Punch-or chimney-sweeps in May;

Zounds! wherefore cannot I attract her glances

Over the way?

Half out she leans to watch a tumbling brat,
Or yelping cur, run over by a dray;

But I'm in love-she never pities that!

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Haunt all her walks, and dodge her at the play; She does not seem to know she has a neighbor Over the way!

At private theatres she never acts;

No Crown-and-Anchor balls her fancy sway;
She never visits gentlemen with tracts

Over the way!

To billets-doux by post she shows no favor
In short, there is no plot that I can lay
To break my window-pains to my enslaver
Over the way!

I play the flute she heeds not

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No friend an introduction can purvey;

I wish a fire would break out in the attics

Over the way!

My wasted form ought of itself to touch her;
My baker feels my appetite's decay;
And as for butcher's meat- O! she's my
Over the way!

At beef I turn; at lamb or veal I pout;
I never ring now to bring up the tray;
My stomach grumbles at my dining out
Over the way!

I'm weary of my life; without regret
I could resign this miserable clay
To lie within that box of mignonette
Over the way!

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I've fitted bullets to my pistol-bore;

I've vowed at times to rush where trumpets bray,
Quite sick of Number One-and Number Four
Over the way!

Sometimes my fancy builds up castles airy,
Sometimes it only paints a ferme ornée,

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a cow six fowls

a pig-and Mary, Over the way!

Sometimes I dream of her in bridal white,
Standing before the altar, like a fay;
Sometimes of balls, and neighborly invite
Over the way!

I've cooed with her in dreams, like any turtle;
I've snatched her from the Clyde, the Tweed, and Tay
Thrice I have made a grove of that one myrtle
Over the way!

Thrice I have rowed her in a fairy shallop,
Thrice raced to Gretna in a neat "po-shay,"
And showered crowns to make the horses gallop
Over the way!

And thrice I've started up from dreams appalling
Of killing rivals in a bloody fray-

There is a young man very fond of calling
Over the way!

O! happy man-above all kings in glory,
Whoever in her ear may say his say,
And add a tale of love to that one story
Over the way!

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Nabob of Arcot-Despot of Japan
Sultan of Persia - Emperor of Cathay -
Much rather would I be the happy man

Over the way!

With such a lot my heart would be in clover

But what-0, horror!-what do I survey!

O,

Postilions and white favors!-- all is over

Over the way!

EPICUREAN REMINISCENCES OF A SENTIMENTALIST.

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My Tables! Meat it is, I set it down!"-HAMLET.

I THINK it was Spring - but not certain I am

When my passion began first to work;

But I know we were certainly looking for lamb,
And the season was over for pork.

"T was at Christmas, I think, when I met with Miss Chase, Yes, for Morris had asked me to dine,

And I thought I had never beheld such a face,

Or so noble a turkey and chine.

Placed close by her side, it made others quite wild

With sheer envy to witness my luck;

How she blushed as I gave her some turtle, and smiled
As I afterwards offered some duck.

I looked and I languished, alas! to my cost,

Through three courses of dishes and meats;

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Getting deeper in love but my heart was quite lost,
When it came to the trifle and sweets!

With a rent-roll that told of my houses and land,

To her parents I told my designs

And then to herself I presented my hand,
With a very fine pottle of pines!

I asked her to have me for weal or for woe,
And she did not object in the least; -

I can't tell the date- but we married, I know,
Just in time to have game at the feast.

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