These spendthrifts, who life's pleasures thus run on,
Dozing with headaches till the afternoon,
Lose half men's regular estate of sun,
By borrowing too largely of the moon.

One of this kidney,-Toby Tosspot hight-
Was coming from the Bedford late at night:
And being Bacchi plenus,-full of wine,
Although he had a tolerable notion

Of aiming at progressive motion,
'Twasn't direct-

twas serpentine.

He worked with sinuosities, along,

Like Monsieur Corkscrew, worming through a cork, Not straight, like Corkscrew's proxy, stiff Don Prong—a fork.

At length, with near four bottles in his pate,

He saw the moon shining on Shove's brass plate,
When reading, "Please to ring the bell,"
And being civil beyond measure,
"Ring it!" says Toby-" Very well;
I'll ring it with a deal of pleasure.”
Toby, the kindest soul in all the town,
Gave it a jerk that almost jerked it down.

He waited full two minutes-no one came;
He waited full two minutes more;—and then,
Says Toby, "If he's deaf, I'm not to blame;
I'll pull it for the gentleman again.”

But the first peal 'woke Isaac in a fright,
Who, quick as lightning, popping up his head,
Sat on his head's antipodes, in bed,

Pale as a parsnip,-bolt upright.

At length, he wisely to himself doth say,-calming his fears,— "Tush! 'tis some fool has rung and run away;" When peal the second rattled in his ears!

Shove jumped into the middle of the floor;

And, trembling at each breath of air that stirred, He groped down stairs, and opened the street-door, While Toby was performing peal the third.

Isaac eyed Toby, fearfully askant,—

And saw he was a strapper stout and tall,

Then put this question;-" Pray, sir, what d'ye want?"
Says Toby, "I want nothing, sir, at all."

"Want nothing!-Sir, you've pulled my bell, I vow, As if you'd jerk it off the wire.” Quoth Toby,-gravely making him a bow,-. "I pulled it, sir, at your desire."

"At mine!"—" Yes, yours; I hope I've done it well;
High time for bed, sir: I was hastening to it;
But if you write up-'Please to ring the bell,'
Common politeness makes me stop and do it."

27. FRANK HAYMAN.- -Taylor.

Frank Hayman dearly loved a pleasant joke,
And after long contention with the gout,
A foe that oft besieged him, sallied out
To breathe fresh air, and appetite provoke.
It chanced as he was strolling void of care,
A drunken porter passed him with a hare;
The hare was o'er his shoulder flung,
Dangling behind in piteous plight,
And as he crept in zigzag style,
Making the most of every mile,
From side to side poor pussy swung,
As if each moment taking flight.

A dog who saw the man's condition,
A lean and hungry politician,
On the lookout, was close behind-
A sly and subtle chap,

Of most sagacious smell,

Like politicians of a higher kind,

Ready to snap

At any thing that fell.

The porter staggered on, the dog kept near,
Watching each lucky moment for a bite,
Now made a spring, and then drew back in fear,
While Hayman followed, tittering at the sight.
Through many a street our tipsy porter goes,
Then 'gainst a cask in solemn thought reclined;
The watchful dog the happy moment knows,
And Hayman cheers him on not far behind.

Encouraged thus-what dog would dare refrain?

He jumped and bit, and jumped and bit, and jumped and bit again;

Till having made a hearty meal,
He careless turned upon his heel,
And trotted at his ease away,

Nor thought of asking-" what's to pay?"
And here some sage, with moral spleen may say,
"This Hayman should have driven the dog away!
The effects of vice the blameless should not bear,
And folks that are not drunkards lose their hare."
Not so unfashionably good,

The waggish Hayman laughing stood,
Until our porter's stupor o'er,
He jogged on tottering as before,
Unconscious any body kind

Had eased him of his load behind ;-
Now on the houses bent his eye,
As if his journey's end were nigh,
Then read a paper in his hand,
And made a stand.-

Hayman drew near with eager mien,
To mark the closing of the scene,
His mirth up to the brim;

The porter read the address once more,
And hicuped, "where's one Hayman's door?
I've got a hare for him!"

28.

CHRISTMAS TIMES.—Anonymous.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' the house. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In the hope that St. Nicholas* soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads,
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap;
When out on the lawn there rose such a clatter,
sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,

I

Tore open

the shutters, and threw up the sash.

* Santa Claus.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of midday to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! now, Vixen'
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Dunder and Blixen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys-and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof;
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys was flung on his back,

And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack;
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath,
He had a broad face, and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all his stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

29.

THE COW AND THE ASS.-Anonymous.

Hard by a green meadow a stream used to flow,
So clear one might see the white pebbles below;
To this cooling stream the warm cattle would stray,
To stand in the shade on a hot summer's day.

A cow, quite oppressed with the heat of the sun,
Came here to refresh as she often had done;
And standing stock still, leaning over the stream,
Was musing, perhaps, or perhaps she might dream.

But soon a brown ass of respectable look,
Came trotting up also to taste of the brook,
And to nibble a few of the daises and grass:

"How d'ye do?" said the cow, "how d'ye do?" said the ass.

"Take a seat," cried the cow, gently waving her hand, "By no means, dear madam," said he, "while you stand;" Then stooping to drink, with a complaisant bow,

"Ma'am, your health," said the ass,-"thank you, sir," said the cow.

When a few of these compliments more had been past,
They laid themselves down on the herbage at last,
And waiting politely as gentlemen must,

The ass held his tongue, that the cow might speak first.

Then with a deep sigh, she directly began,
"Don't you think, Mr. Ass, we are injured by man?
"Tis a subject that lays with a weight on my mind:
We certainly are much oppressed by mankind.

Now what is the reason? I see none at all,
That I always must go when Suke chooses to call:
Whatever I'm doing, 'tis certainly hard,

At once I must go to be milked in the yard.

I've no will of my own, but must do as they please,
And give them my milk to make butter and cheese;
I've often a vast mind to knock down the pail,
Or give Suke a box of the ears with my tail."