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That there's no soul at home except myself."
"In leed! replied the stranger," looking grave,
"Then he's a double knave:

He knows that rogues and thieves by scores
Nightl; beset unguarded doors:

And see, how easily might one
Of these domestic foes,

Even beneath your very nose,
Perform his knavish tricks;

Enter your room, as I have done,
Blow out your candles

thus- and thus,

Pocket your silver candlesticks,
And walk off- thus!"

So said

so done - he made no more remark.

Nor waited for replies,

But marched off with his prize.

Leaving the gouty merchant in the dark.

ANC NYMOUS

MISCONCEPTION.

ERE night her sable curtains spread ;
Ere Phoebus had retired to bed
In Thetis' lap;

Ere drowsy watchmen yet had ta'en
Their early nap,

A wight, by hungry fiend made bold,
To farmer Fitz-Maurice's fold
Did slily creep,

Where numerous flocks were quiet laid
In the arms of sleep.

No doubt the sheep he meant to steal;
But, hapless, close behind his heel
Was plowman Joe,
Who just arrived in time to stop
The murderous blow.

May ill luck on ill actions wait!
The felon must to justice straight
Be dragged by force;
his guilt,

Where prosecutors urge

Without remorse.

With fear o'erwhelmed, the victim stands,
Anticipates the dread commands

From the elbow chair,

Where justice sits in solemn state,
With brow austere.

Rogue! what excuse hast thou for this?
For to old Gilbert Fitz-Maurice,

Thou knew'st full well,

The sheep within that fold belonged-
Come, quickly tell.

Confess thy crime; 't will naught avail
To say, the mark above the tail
Thou didst not heed;

For G. F. M., in letters large,
Thou plain might'st read."

“'T is true, I did," the thief replies;
"But man is not at all times wise;
As I'm a glutton,

I really thought that G. F. M.

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Good, Fat, Mutton!" ANONYMOUS.

THE APPLE-DUMPLINGS AND GEORGE III.

ONCE in the chase, this monarch drooping,
From his high consequence and wisdom stooping,
Entered, through curiosity, a cot,

Where an old crone was hanging on the pot;
The wrinkled, blear-eyed, good old granny,
In this same cot, illumed by many a cranny,
Had apple-dumplings ready for the pot;
In tempting row the naked dumplings lay,
When lo! the monarch, in his usual way,

Like lightning asked, "What's here? what's here? what? what? what? what?"

Then taking up a dumpling in his hand,

His

eyes with admiration did expand

And oft did majesty the dumpling grapple :

""Tis monstrous, monstrous, monstrous hard," he cried; "What makes the thing so hard?" The dame replied,

Low courtesying, "Please your majesty, the apple." "Very astonishing indeed! strange thing!" (Turning the dumpling round) rejoined the king, T is most extraordinary now, all this is

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It beats the conjurer's capers all to pieces
Strange I should never of a dumpling dream,

But Goody, tell me, where, where, where 's the seam ?"
"Sire, there's no seam," quoth she, "I never knew
That folks did apple-dumplings sew!"

"No?" cried the staring monarch with a grin,
"Then, where, where, where, pray, got the apple in ?"

WOLCOTT.

THE DIRECTING POST.

In winter, once, an honest traveling wight
Pursued his road to Derby, late at night;
'T was very cold, the wind was bleak and high,
And not a house nor living thing was nigh;
At length he came to where some four roads met,
(It rained too, and he was completely wet,)
And being doubtful which way he should take,
He drew up to the finger-post to make

It out and after much of poring, fumbling,

Some angry oaths, and a great deal of grumbling,

"T was thus the words he traced - "To Derby - five;" "A goodly distance yet, as I'm alive!"

But on he drove a weary length of way,

And wished his journey he 'd delayed till day:
He wondered that no town appeared in view,
(The wind blew stronger, it rained faster too,)
When to his great relief he met a man :
"I say, good friend, pray tell me, if you can,
How far is 't hence to Derby?" "Derby, hey!

Why zur, thee be'est completely come astray;

This y'ant the road." "Why zounds the guide-post showed 'To Derby, five' and pointed down this road!"

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Ay, dang it, that may be, for you maun know,

The post it war blown down last night, and so
This morn I put it up again, but whether
(As I can't put great A and B together)
The post is right, I'm zure I cannot zay
The town is just five miles the other way."

ANONYMOUS.

THE ATHEIST AND ACORN.

"METHINKS the world seems oddly made
And everything amiss;"

A dull complaining atheist said,

As stretched he lay beneath the shade,
And instanced it in this :

"Behold," quoth he, "that mighty thing,
A pumpkin large and round,
Is held but by a little string,
Which upward cannot make it spring,
Nor bear it from the ground.

"While on this oak an acorn small,
So disproportioned grows,
That whosoe'er surveys this all,
This universal casual ball,

Its ill contrivance knows.

"My better judgment would have hung
The pumpkin on the tree,
And left the acorn slightly strung,
'Mongst things that on the surface sprung,
And weak and feeble be."

No more the caviler could say,
No further faults descry;
For upward gazing, as he lay,
An acorn, loosened from its spray,
Fell down upon his eye.

The wounded part with tears ran o'er,
As punished for that sin:

Fool! had that bough a pumpkin bore,

Thy whimseys would have worked no more,

Nor skull have kept them in.

THE ASS AND THE NIGHTINGALE.

Ax ass a nightingale espied,

And shouted out, "Hollo! hollo! good friend!
Thou art a first-rate singer, they pretend:-

Now let me hear thee, that I may decide

e;

ANONYMOUS

I really wish to know the world is partial ever —
If thou hast this great gift, and art indeed so clever.”
The nightingale began her heavenly lays :

Through all the regions of sweet music ranging,
Varying her song a thousand different ways;
Rising and falling, lingering, ever changing;
Full of wild rapture now — then sinking oft
To almost silence-melancholy, soft,
As distant shepherd's pipe at evening's close:
Strewing the wood with lovelier music : there
All nature seems to listen and repose;

-

afraid

No zephyr dares disturb the tranquil air:
All other voices of the grove are still,
And the charmed flocks lie down beside the rill.
The shepherd like a statue stands
His breathing may disturb the melody;
His finger, pointing to the melodious tree,
Seems to say, "Listen!" to his favorite maid.
The singer ended: and our critic bowed

His reverend head to

earth, and said aloud,

"Now that's so, so; thou really hast some merit;
Curtail thy song, and critics then might hear it.
Thy voice wants sharpness:

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but if chanticleer

Would give thee a few lessons, doubtless he Might raise thy voice and modulate thy ear; And thou, in spite of all thy faults, mayest be very decent singer." The poor bird

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In silent modesty the critic heard,

And winged her peaceful flight into the air,
O'er many and many a field and forest fair.
Many such critics you and I have seen :
Heaven be our screen!

KRILER

THE YOUNG FLY AND THE OLD SPIDER.

FRESH was the breath of morn-the busy breeze,
As poets tell us, whispered through the trees,
And swept the dew-clad blooms with wings so light:
Phoebus got up, and made a blazing fire,

That gilded every country-house and spire.

And smiling, put on his best looks so bright.

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