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"And since I'm an ass, I advise you all round
To choose your king from the asses;
A mighty ass-kingdom we thus will found,
They being the governing classes.

"We all are asses. Hee-ha! Hee-ha!
As ostlers we will not demean us;
Away with the horses! Long live, hurrah,
The king of the asinine genus!"

Thus spake the patriot. Through the hall
The asses cheered him proudly;

They all, in fact, were national,

And with their hoofs stamped loudly.

An oaken wreath on the orator's head
They put as a decoration;

He wagged his tail (though nothing he said)
With evident gratification.

-"Latest Poems."

Whims of the Amorous

UPON the hedge the beetle sits sadly,

He has fallen in love with a ladyfly madly.

"Oh, fly of my soul, 'tis thou alone

Art the wife I have chosen to be my own!

"Oh, marry me, and be not cold,

For I have a belly of glistening gold.

"My back is a mass of glory and show; There rubies glitter, there emeralds glow."

"Oh, would that I were a fool just now! I'd never marry a beetle, I vow.

"I care not for emeralds, rubies, or gold;

I know that no happiness riches enfold.

""Tis toward the ideal my thought soars high, For I am in truth a haughty fly."

The beetle flew off, with a heart like to break; The fly went away, a bath to take.

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Oh, what has become of my maid, the bee, That she, when I'm washing, may wait on me;

"That she may stroke my soft hair outside? For I am now a beetle's bride.

"In truth, a splendid party I'll give, For handsomer beetle never did live.

"His back is a mass of glory and show; There rubies glitter, there emeralds glow.

"His belly is golden, and noble each feature; With envy will burst full many a creature.

"Make haste, Miss Bee, and dress my hair; And lace my waist; use perfumes rare;

"With attar of roses rub me o'er,

And lavender oil on my feet then pour

"That I may not stink, or nastily smell, When I in my bridegroom's arms shall dwell.

"Already are flitting the dragonflies blue,

As maids of honor to wait on me too.

"Into my bridal garland they'll twine
The blossoms white of the orange so fine.

"Full many musicians are asked to the place, And singers as well, of the grasshopper race.

"The bittern, drone, hornet, and gadfly all come, To blow on the trumpet and beat the drum.

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'They're all to strike up for the glad wedding-feast.

The gay-winged guests, from greatest to least,

"Are coming in families dapper and brisk,

The commoner insects among them frisk.

"The grasshoppers, wasps, and the aunts and the cousins Are coming, while trumpets are blowing by dozens.

"The pastor, the mole, in black, dignified state, Has also arrived, and the hour grows late.

"The bells are all sounding ding-dong, ding-a-dongBut where's my dear bridegroom ling'ring so long?"

Ding-dong, ding-a-dong, sound the bells all the day,
The bridegroom, however, has flown far away.

The bells are all sounding ding-dong, ding-a-dong"But where's my dear bridegroom ling'ring so long?"

The bridegroom has meanwhile taken his seat
On a distant dunghill, enjoying the heat.

Seven years there sits he, until his forgotten
Poor bride has long been dead and rotten.

"Latest Poems."

Fritz Reuter

Water-Cure

SPRING was gone and summer had come, when one Sunday morning Hawermann received a letter from Bräsig, dated from Warnitz, in which his friend requested him to remain at home that day, for he had returned, and intended to call on him that afternoon. When Bräsig arrived, he sprang from his saddle with so much force that one might have thought he wanted to go through the road with both legs. "Oho!" cried Hawermann, "how brisk you are! You're all right now, aren't you?"

As right as a trivet, Karl. I've renewed my youth." "Well, how have you been getting on, old boy?" asked Hawermann, when they were seated on the sofa and their pipes were lighted.

“Listen, Karl. Cold, damp, watery, clammy-that's about what it comes to. It's just turning a human being into a frog, and before a man's nature is so changed, he has such a hard time of it that he begins to wish he had come into the world a frog. Still, it isn't a bad thing! You begin the day with the common packing, as they call it. They wrap you up in cold, damp sheets, and then in woolen blankets, in which they fasten you up so tight that you can't move any part of your body except your toes. In this condition they take you to a bath-room, and a man goes before you ringing a bell to warn the ladies to keep out of your way. Then they put you, just as God made you, in a bath, and dash three pails of water over your bald head, if you happen to have one,

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