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"A favor so light one's good nature secures,"

And she playfully seated herself by his side. "I would blow it again,” said the youth, "and the charm

Would work so that not even modesty's check Would be able to keep from my neck her fine arm."

She smiled--and she laid her fine arm round his neck., " Yet once more would I blow, and the music divine ,

Would bring me the third time an exquisite bliss ;
You would lay your fair cheek to this brown one of mine,

And your lips, stealing past it, would give me a kiss."
The maiden laughed out in her-iņnocent glee

“What a fool of yourself with your whistle you'd make! For only consider how silly 'twould be

To sit there and whistle for what you might take,"

ROGER AND DOLLY. i

BLACKWOOD. .
Young Roger came tapping at Dolly's window

Thumpaty, thumpaty, thump;
He begged for admittance-she answered him nom

Glumpaty, glumpaty, glump.
No, no, Roger, nomas you came you may go

Stumpaty, stumpaty, stump.
“Oh, what is the reason, dear Dolly ?" he cried-

Humpaty, humpaty, hump-
“Why am I cast off, and unkindly denied ?

Trumpaty, trumpaty, trump;
Some rival more dear I guess has been here"-

Crumpaty, crumpaty, crump.
“Suppose there's been two, sir, pray what's that to you, sir ?

Numpaty, numpaty, nump.
Wi' a disconsolate look his sad farewell he took“,

Trumpaty, trumpaty, trunup .

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And all in despair jumped into a brook

Jum paty, jumpaty, jump-
His courage did cool in a filthy green pool-

Slumpaty, slumpaty, slump-
So he swam to the shore, but saw Dolly no more

Dumpaty, dumpaty, dump.
He did speedily find one more fat and more kind-

Plumpaty, plumpaty, plump-
But poor Dolly's afraid she must die an old maid-

Mumpaty, mumpaty, mump.

THE KNOOK AT THE DOOR.

ANON.
There came a gentle knock

I heard it with surprise-
At half past eight o'clock,

The time I always rise.
I listened, and I thought

What that low tap could mean-
The water had been brought,

The butcher's boy had been..

The post had come and gone,

The letters lay around
From Boston and Whitestono,

Peru and Hudson Sound.

Perhaps it was a note;

A telegram to say
My aunt had caught the boat

And would be here to-day.
Perhaps it was a bill-

The messenger to wait;
Perhaps my brother Phil

To tako me out to skate.

Conjectures such as these

Passed swiftly thro' my brain; I hardly felt at ease,

When lo! that knock again.

And then there came a voice

Our nursemaid's voice, forsoothWhich made my heart rejoice

With—"Baby's got a tooth !"

THE BEWITOHED TARBIER.

R. H. NEWELL,

Sam Johnson was a cullud man,

Who lived down in Judee; He owned a rat tan tarrier

That stood 'bout one foot three; And the way that critter chawed up rats

Was gorjeus for to see.

One day this dorg was slumberin'

Behind the kitchen stove,
When suddenly a wicked flea-

An ugly little cove-
Commenced upon his faithful back

With many jumps to rove.

Then up arose that tarrier,

With frenzy in his eye,
And waitin' only long enough

To make a touchin' cry,
Commenced to twist his head around,

Most wonderfully spry.

But all in vain; his shape was sich,

So awful short and fat,

And tho' he doubled up hisself,

And strained hisself at that,
His mouth was half an inch away-

From where the varmint satu
The dorg set up an awful yowls

And twisted like an eel,
Emitting cries of misery

At every nip he'd feel,
And tumbling down and jumping up

And turning like a wheel.
But still that most owdacious ileg

Kept up a constant claw
Just where he couldn't be scratched out

By any reach of paw,
But always half an inch beyond

His victim's snappin' jaw.
Sam Johnsoi heard the noise, and came

To save his animile: But when he see the erittur spin-

A barkin' all the while-. He dreaded hiderfobia,

And then began to rile. "The pup is mad enough," says he,

And luggin' in his axe, He gev the wretched tarrier

A pair of awful cracks
That stretched him out upon the floor
As dead as carpet tacks.

MORAL.
Take warnin' by this tarrier,

Now turned to sassidge meat,
And when misfortin's flea shall come

Upon your back to eat,
Beware! or you may die because

You can't make both ends meste.

A QATALEOTIO MONODY.

CRUIKSHANK. A cat I sing, of famous memory, Though catachrestical my song may be ; In a small garden catacomb she lies, And Cataclysms fill her comrades' eyes ; Borne on the air, the catacoustic song Swells with her virtues' catalogue along; No cataplasm could lengthen out her years, Though mourning friends shed cataracts of tears. Once loud and strong her catechist-like voice; It dwindled to a catcall's squeaking noise; Most categorical her virtues shone, By catenation joined each one to one; But a vile catchpoll dog, with cruel bite, Like catlings cut, her strength disabled quite; Her caterwauling pierced the heavy air, As cataphracts their arms thro' legions bear; 'Tis vain! as caterpillars drag away Their lengths, like cattle after busy day, She lingering died, nor left in kit-kat the Embodiment of this catastrophe.

A SERENADE.

PUNCH.
Smile, lady, smile! (Bless me! what's that?
Confound the cat!)
Smile, lady, smile! One glance bestow
On him who sadly waits below
To catch-(A villain up above
Has thrown some water on me, love !).
To catch one token
(Oh, dear! my head is broken
The wretch who threw the water down
Has dropped the jug upon my crown 1)--

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