who, in the overflowing of their love, will have some liking to spare for the doctor and his faithful memorialist. The poets, those especially who deal in erotics, lyrics, sentimentals, or sonnets, are the Ah-oh-ites. The gentlemen who speculate in chapels are the Puhites. The chief seat of the Simeonites is at Cambridge; but they are spread over the land. So are the Man-ass-ites, of whom the finest specimens are to be seen in St. James's Street, at the fashionable time of day for exhibiting the dress and the person upon the pavement. The freemasons are of the family of the Jachinites. The female Haggites are to be seen, in low life wheeling barrows, and in high life seated at card-tables. The Shuhamites are the cordwainers. The Teamanites attend the sales of the East India Company. Sir James Mackintosh, and Sir James Scarlett, and Sir James Graham belong to the Jim-nites. Who are the Gazathites, if the people of London are not, where anything is to be seen? All of them are the Gettites when they can, all would be Havites if they could. The journalists should be Geshurites, if they answered to their profession; instead of this they generally turn out to be Geshuwrongs. There are, however, three tribes in England, not named in the Old Testament, who considerably outnumber all the rest. These are the High Vulgarites, who are the children of Rahank and Phashan, the Middle Vulgarites, who are the children of Mammon and Terade, and the Low Vulgarites, who are the children of Tahag, Rahag, and Bohobtay-il. -"The Doctor." The Cataract of Lodore How does the water Come down at Lodore? My little boy asked me Thus once on a time. Moreover he tasked me To tell him in rhyme. Anon, at the word, There first came one daughter, And then came another, To second and third The request of their brother, They had seen it before. To them and the King. From its fountains In the mountains, Through moss and through brake It runs and it creeps For awhile till it sleeps In its own little lake. And thence at departing, Awakening and starting, It runs through the reeds, And away it proceeds Through meadow and glade, In sun and in shade, And through the wood-shelter, Among crags in its flurry, Helter-skelter, Hurry-skurry. Here it comes sparkling, As if a war waging Its caverns and rocks among; Rising and leaping, Sinking and creeping, Swelling and sweeping, Showering and springing, Flying and flinging, Eddying and whisking, Spouting and frisking, Turning and twisting, A sight to delight in; Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound. Collecting, projecting, And dinning and spinning, And working and jerking, And heaving and cleaving, And glittering and frittering, And thundering and floundering; Dividing and gliding and sliding, And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling, Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting, And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming, |