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Is come to say my other half

Is bit off by a shark!

"Oh, Sally, sharks do things by halves,

* Yet most completely do!' 710A bito in one place seems enough,

But I've been bit in two."

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"You know I once was all your own

But now a sliark must share!
But let that pass, for now to you

I'm neither here nor there.

“Alas! 'death has a strange divorce

Effected in the sea,
It has divided me from you,
'And even me from me.

.." Don't fear my ghost will walk o' nights

To haunt, as people say ;, ;
My ghost can't walk, for, oh, my legs

Are many leagues away!

"Lord ! think when I am swimming round

And looking where the boat is,
A shark just snaps away a half
Without a quarter's notice.

“One half is here, the other half

Is near Columbia placed :
Oh, Sally, I have got the whole

Atlantic for my waist!

"But now, adieu-a long adieu!

I've solved death's awful riddle, And would say more but I am doomed.

To break off in the middle!"

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No sun-no moon ng

No morn-no noon-
No dawn-no dusk-no proper time of day-

No sky-no earthly view

No distance looking blue-
No road-no street-no “t'other side the way"

No end to any Row-
No indications where the crescente ga
No top to any steeple-
No recognition of familiar people-

No courtesies for showing 'em-
. No knowing 'em!...?
No travelling at all -no locomotion-
No inkling of the way--no notion-
No go, by land or ocean!

No mail--no post

No news from any foreign coast
No park-no ring—no afternoon gentility-
No company-no nobility-
No warmth-no cheerfulness, no healthful ease

No comfortable feel in any member-
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,

November!

THE SEPTEMBER GALB.

0. W. HOLMES.

I'm not a chicken! I have seen

Full many a chill September,
And though I was a youngster then,

That gale I well remember.

The day before my kite string snapped,

And I my kite pursuing, The wind whisked off my palm leaf hat;

For me two storms were browing: It came as quarrels often do,

When married folks get clashing; There was a heavy sigh or two

Before the fire was flashing ; A little stir among the clouds,

Before they rent asunder,
A little rocking of the trees,

And then came on the thunder.
Lord! how the pond and river boiled,

And how the shingles rattled !
And oaks were scattered on the ground

As if the Titans battled;
And all above was in a howl, .

And all below a clatter-
The earth was like a frying-pan,
· Or some such hissing matter.
It chanced to be our washing day,

And all our things were drying ;
The storm came roaring thro' the lines,

And set them all a-flying.
I saw the skirts and petticoats

Go riding off like witches;
I lost-alı! bitterly I wept-

I lost my Sunday breeches !
I saw them straddling thro' the air,

Alas! too late to win them;
I saw them chase the clouds as if

The devil had been in them;
They were my darlings and my pride,

My boyhood's only riches-
"Farewell, farewell !" I faintly cried,

“My breeches ! O my breeches!"

That night I saw them in my dreams,

How changed from what I knew them;
The dews had steeped their faded threads,
. The winds had whistled through them!
I saw the wide and ghastly rents

Where demon claws had torn them;
A hole was in their amplest part,

As if an imp had worn them.
I have had many happy years,

And tailors kind and clever;
But those young pantaloons have gone
• Forever and forever !
And not till fate has cut the last

Of all my earthly stitches,
This aching heart shall cease to mourn

My loved, my long lost broeches !

THE DISAPPOINTMENT.

G. P. MORRIS.
Old Birch, who taught the village school,

Wedded a maid of homespun habit;
He was as stubborn as a mule,

While she was playful as a rabbit. Poor Kate had scarce become a wife

Before her husband sought to make her The pink of country polished life,

And prim and formal as a Quaker.
One day the tutor went abroad,

And simple Katy sadly missed him ;
When he returned, bebind her lord
. She slyly stole, and fondly kissed him.
The husband's anger rose, and red

And white his face alternate grow; “Less freedom, ma'am!" Kate sighed and said,

" Oh, dear, I didn't know 'twas you !!!

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A weakness seizes on my mind I would more pudding take;
But all in vain! I feel—I feel-my little head will ache.
Oh, that I might alone be left, to rest where now I am,
And finish with a piece of bread that pot of current jam !

I gaze upon the cake with tears, and wildly I deplore
That I must take a powder if I touch a morsel more;
Or oil of castor, smoothly bland, will offered be to me,
In wave pellucid, floating on a cup of milkless team

It may be so I cannot tell—I yet may do witlout;
They need not know, when left alone, what I have been about.
I long to eat that potted beef-to taste that apple pie;
I long--I long to eat some more, but have not strength to try.
I gasp for breath, and now I know I've eaten far too much ;
Not one more crnmb of all the feast before me can I touch.
Susan, oh, Susan, ring the bell, and call for mother dear,
My brain swims round—I feel it all-mother, your child is queer!

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THE WHISTLE.

BY ROBERT STORY. “You have heard," said a youth to his sweetheart, who stood,

While he sat on a corn-sheaf, at daylight's decline "You have heard of the Danish boy's whistle of wood ?

I wish that Danish boy's whistle were mine."

“And what would you do with it ? tell me," she said,

While an arch smile played over her beautiful face. “I would blow.it," he answered," and then my fair maid

Would iy to my side, and would here take her place." “ Is that all you wish for? That may be yours

weit Without any magic," the fair maiden cried;. *

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