(That he instruction gainful thence might draw) 66 For such deep mystery you must pay your venture, A handsome treat, good food, and store of wine, The match was made, the supper straight bespoke, This will success in the worst cause secure ye, To pay-the pupil hands old Soph the bill; 66 Heyday! what's here; our treaty you've forgot ; You're out in practice-I'm your worship's clerk; VI. THE CASE ALTERED. ONCE on a time, if Fame says true, for Fame will lie and flatter too, A country justice lived remote from town, and had the laws by rote; Always at work this man was seen, his wife was neat, his children clean; One morn, preventing day, he rose-across the fields to work he goes; But sudden stopped, and looked around-his corn was trodden to the ground: Straight he resolved the foe to trace, for havoc stared him in the face; His neighbors hogs, so void of sense, who knew no bounds, had broke his fence, And ravaged freely, uncontrolled, not used to fear, for hogs are bold; His pleasing dreams of plenty fled, and nearer views the lack of bread; Pale Famine stood before his eyes, and Fancy heard his children's cries ;. I VII. THE "THROES" OF SCIENCE. BRET HARTE. RESIDE at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James, And I'll tell, in simple language, what I know about the row But first I would remark, that it's not a proper plan, Nothing could be finer, or more heautiful to see, Then Brown he read a paper, and he reconstructed there And Jones then asked the "chair" for a suspension of the rules, Then Brown he smiled a bitter smile, and said, his greatest fault Was that he had been "trespassing on Jones's family vault." He was the most sarcastic man, this quiet Mr. Brown, And, on several occasions, he had cleaned out the town. Now, I hold it is not decent for a scientific gent, Then Abner Dean, of Angel's, raised a point of order, when And he smiled a sort of sickly smile, and curled up on the floor- Then, in less time than I tell it, every member did engage In a warfare with the remnants of a paleozoic age; And the way they heaved those fossils in their anger was a sin, And the skull of an old monarch caved our chairman's head right in. -And this is all I have to say of these improper games, For I live at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James; VIII.—THE BRIEFLESS BARRISTER. J. G. SAXE. N attorney was taking a turn, in shabby habiliments drest; AN His coat it was shockingly worn, and the rust had invested his vest. His breeches had suffered a breech-his linen and worsted were worse: He sought for relief in a song, or complainingly talked to himself: "Unfortunate man that I am! I've never a client but grief : The case is, I've no case at all, and, in brief, I have ne'er had a brief. I've waited and waited in vain, expecting an 'opening' to find, Where an honest young lawyer might gaine some reward for the toil of his mind, 'Tis not that I'm wanting in law, or lack an intelligent face, That others have cases to plead, while I have to plead for a case. Oh, how can a modest young man e'er hope for the smallest progression ! While thus he was strolling around. his eye accidentally fell On a very deep hole in the ground and he sighed to himself, "It is well!” Next morning, twelve citizens came, ('twas the Coroner bad them attend), To the end that it might be determined, how deceased had determined his end. “The man was a lawyer, I hear," quoth the Foreman who sat on the corse “A lawyer? alas !'' said another—“he undoubtedly died of remorse !'' A third said, "He knew the deceased—an attorney well versed in the laws; And as to the cause of his death, 'twas no doubt for the want of a cause. The jury decided at length, after solemnly weighing the matter, "That the lawyer was drownded, because-he could not keep his head above water." IX. THE PERVERSE HEN. ONCE with an honest Dutchman walking, about his troubles he was talking— The most of which seemed to arise from friends' and wife's perversities, When he took breath his pipe to fill, I ventured to suggest that will Was oft the cause of human ill; that life was full of self-denials, And every man had his own trials. "'tis not the will," he quick replied, "but i'ts the won't by which I'm tried. I goes and catches her and brings her and back into her nest I flings her; But sit she won't, for all I say, she's up again and runs away. As I thinks, now at last I've got her; when in the little box I've sot her; So that she couldn't get away, but in it, till she hatched must stay. And then again, once more I chase her, and catch, and in the box I place her. And then, when I had made her sit down, immediately I claps the lid on. X.-ORATOR PUFF. ANON. MR. R. ORATOR PUFF had two tones in his voice, the one squeaking thus, and the other down so; in each sentence he uttered he gave you your choice, for one half was B alt, and the rest G below. But he still talked away, spite of coughs and of frowns; so distrrcting all ears with his ups and his downs, that a wag once, on hearing the orator say, "My voice-is for war," asked him, Which of them, pray?" 66 66 66 Reeling homewards one evening, top-heavy with gin, and rehearsing his speech on the weight of the Crown, he tripped near a saw-pit, and tumbled right in, Sinking-fund," the last words as his noddle came down. Oh, law!" he exclaimed, in his he-and-she tones, 'Help me out!-help me out!-I have broken my bones!" Help you out!" said a fellow who passed, "what a bother! why, thers's two of you there; can't you help one another?" WILL 66 66 XI. THE SPIDER AND THE FLY. MARY HOWITT. ILL you walk into my parlor?" said a Spider to a Fly; "'tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy. The way into my parlor is up a winding stair, and I have many pretty things to show you when you're there." Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain, for who goes up your winding-stair can ne'er come down again."-I'm sure you must be weary with soaring up so high; will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly. "There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin, and if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in." "Oh no, no!" said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said, they never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"-Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, "Dear friend! what shall I do to prove the warm afiection I've always felt for you? I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice; I'm sure you're welcome-will you please to take a slice?" "Oh no, no!" said the little Fly, "kind sir, that cannot be; I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see."—"Sweet creature!'' said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise. How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes! I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf; if you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold—yourself.” “I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say, and, bidding you good-morning now, I call another day."-The spider turned him round about, and went into his den, for well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again: so he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly, and set his table ready-to dine upon the Fly. Then he went out to his door again, and merrily did sing, "Come hither, hither. pretty Fly, with the pearl-and-silver wing: your robes are green and purple-there's a crest upon your head; your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead." Alas! alas! how very soon this silly little Fly, hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by; with buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew, thinking only of her brilliant eyes, her green and purple hue, and dreaming of her crested head-poor foolish thing! At last up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast. He dragged her up his winding-stair, into his dismal den, within his little parlor-but she ne'er came out again! And now, all youth ful people, who may this story hear, to idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give ear to all deceitful counsellors, close heart, and ear, and eye;—and take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly. XII. THE COLLEGIAN AND THE PORTER. PLANCHE. T Trin. Coll. Cam.-which means, in proper spelling, Trinity College, Cambridge-there resided one Harry Dashington-a youth excelling in all the learning commonly provided for those who choose that classic station for finishing their education; that is—he understood computing the odds at any race or match; was a dead hand at pigeon-shooting; could kick up rows-knock down the watch-play truant, and the rake, at random--drink, tie cravats—and drive a tandem. Remonstrance, fine, and rustication, so far from working reformation, seemed but to make his lapses greater; 'till he was warned that next offence would have this certain consequence-expulsion from his Alma Mater. One need not be a necromancer to guess that, with so wild a wight, the next offence occurred next night; when our incurable came rolling home as the midnight chimes were tolling, and rang the College bell. No answer. The second peal was vain—the third made the street echo its alarum ; when to his great delight he heard the sordid Janitor, old Ben, rousing and growling in his den. "Who's there?—I s'pose young Harum-scarum. "Tis I, my worthy Ben-'tis Harry." "Ay, so I thought—and there you'll tarry: 'tis past the hour-the gates are closed -you know my orders ;-I shall lose my place if I undo the door." "And I" (young Hopeful interposed), "shall be expelled if you refuse; so pr’ythee”—Ben began to snore. -"I'm wet," cried Harry, "to the skin: hip!-hallo !—Bendon't be a ninny; beneath the gate I've thrust a guinea, so tumble out and let me in." "Humph!" growled the greedy old curmudgeon, half overjoyed and half in dudgeon. "Now you may pass, but make no fuss; on tip-toe walk and hold your prate.' "Look on the stones, old Cerberus," cried Harry, as he passed the gate; "I've dropped a shilling-take the light-you'll find it just outside-good-night," |