IX.-JOHN DAY.-Thomas Hood.
JOHN DAY he was the biggest man of all the coachman kind,
With back too broad to be conceived by any narrow mind.
The bar-maid of the "Crown" he loved, from whom he never ranged; For, though he changed his horses there, his love he never changed!
One day, as she was sitting down beside the porter pump,
He came, and knelt-with all his fat-and made an offer, plump!
Said she, 66
My taste will never learn to like so huge a man,
So I must beg you will come here as little as you can!"
In vain he wooed-in vain he sued!-the maid was cold and proud,
And sent him off to "Coventry" while on the way to Stroud;
He fretted all the way to Stroud, and thence all back to town:
The course of love was never smooth, so his went up and down.
At last her coldness made him pine to merely bones and skin,
But still he loved, like one resolved to love through thick and thin!
"O Mary! view my wasted back, and see my dwindled calf!
Though I have never had a wife, I've lost my better half!"
Worn out, at last he made a vow to break his being's link,
For he was so reduced in size, at nothing he could shrink.
Now, some will talk in water's praise, and waste a deal of breath;
But John, though he drank nothing else, he drank himself to death!
The cruel maid, that caused his love, found out the fatal close;
For, looking in the butt, she saw-the butt-end of his woes!...
Some say his spirit haunts the "Crown;"-but that is only talk;
For, after riding all his life, his ghost objects to "walk.”
X.-CLERICAL WIT.-Anonymous.
A PARSON, who'd a missionary been,
And hardships and privations oft had seen,
While wandering far on lone and desert strands,-
A weary traveller in benighted lands-
Would often picture to his little flock
The terrors of the gibbet and the block;
How martyrs suffered in the ancient times,
And what men suffer now, in other climes:
But, though his words were eloquent and deep,
His hearers oft indulged themselves in sleep.
He marked with sorrow each unconscious snooze
As heavily they snored within the pews;
And thought a new experiment he'd make
In his discourse, to keep the rogues awake.
Said he," While travelling in a distant State
I witness'd scenes which I will here relate:
'Twas in a deep uncultivated wild
Where noon-tide glory scarcely ever smiled;
Where wolves in hours of midnight-darkness howl'd,
Where bears frequented, and where panthers prowl'd;
And, on my word, mosquitoes there were found,
Many of which, I think, would weigh a pound!
More fierce and ravenous than the hungry shark-
They oft were known to climb the trees and bark!"
The congregation, taken by surprise,
All started up, and rubbed their wondering eyes.
But tales like this, credulity appalled:
Next day the deacons on the pastor called,
And begged to know how he could ever tell
The
foolish-statements-from his lips that fell.
Why, these mosquitoes, what à monstrous weight!
Were they as large, sir, as you pleased to state?
You said they'd weigh a pound-it can't be true;
We can't believe it, though 'tis told by you."
"Ah! but 'tis true," the parson quick replied:
"In what I stated you may well confide;
Many would weigh a pound-the story's good-
Indeed I'm sure that many of them would!"
The deacons saw at once that they were caught,
Yet deemed themselves relieved, on second thought;
“But then, the barking—think of that, good man:
Such monstrous bounce-explain it if you can!"
"Why, that, my friends, I can explain with ease-
They climb'd the bark, sirs, when they climb'd the trees!"
XI. DIFFICULTY OF RHYMING.-Anonymous.
WE parted by the gate in June-that soft and balmy monthBeneath the sweetly-beaming moon, and-wunth, hunth, sunth-I can't find a rhyme for month!
Days were to pass ere we should meet; a wide and yawning gulf Divides me from my love so sweet, while (ulf, sulf, dulf, mulf) stuck again! I can't find any rhyme to gulf.
Beneath my fortune's stern decree my lonely spirit sunk,
For I a weary soul should be, and like a (monk, hunk,
that will never do in the world).
She buried her sweet lovely face within her azure scarf
She knew I'd take the wretchedness as well as (harf, darf)—that won't do either.
I took between my hands her head-how sweet her lips did vouch!
I kiss'd her lovingly and said-ouch! slouch! moutch! pouch!-O, no!
I sorrowfully wrung her hand—my tears they did escape; My sorrow I could not command, and I was but an-(ape)—well, perhaps I was!
I gave to her a fond adieu-sweet pupil of love s school;
I told her I would e'er be true, and always be a (mule,-no-tool, Since I come to think of it, I was a fool; for she
fell in love with another fellow in a month!
XII.--THE BACHELOR'S SALE.-Davidson.
I DREAMED a dream in the midst of my slumbers,
And, as fast as I dreamed, it was coined into numbers:
My thoughts ran along in such beautiful metre,
I'm sure I ne'er saw any poetry sweeter.
It seemed that a law had been recently made
That a tax on Old Bachelors' pates should be laid;
And, in order to make them all willing to marry,
The tax was as large as a man could well carry.
The bachelors grumbled, and said ""Twas no use
"'Twas cruel injustice! and horrid abuse!"-
And declared that, to save their own hearts' blood from spilling, Of such a vile tax they would ne'er pay a shilling.
But the rulers determined their scheme to pursue,
So they set all the bachelors up at vendue.
A "Crier" was sent through the town to and fro
To rattle his bell, and his trumpet to blow,
And to bawl out to all he might meet on his way,
"Ho! forty Old Bachelors for sale here to-day!"
And presently all the Old Maids of the town-
Each one in her very best bonnet and gown,
From thirty to sixty, fair, plain, red, and pale,—
Of every description, all flocked to the sale.
The Auctioneer then at his labour began,
And called out aloud, as he held up a man-
"How much for this Bachelor? Who wants to buy ?"
In a twink every maiden responded, “I—I!"
In short, at a highly extravagant price,
The Bachelors all were sold off in a trice,
And forty Old Maidens—some younger, some older,-
Each lugged an Old Bachelor home on her shoulder!
XIII. THE SONG OF THE STETHOSCOPE.-Oliver W. Holmes.
THERE was a young man in Boston town,
He bought him a Stethoscope nice and new,
All mounted, and finished, and polished down,
With an ivory cap and stopper too.
It happened, a Spider within did crawl,
And spun him a web of ample size;
Wherein there chanced, one day, to fall
A couple of very imprudent flies.
The first was a bottle-fly, big and blue:
The second was smaller, and thin and long:
So there was a concert between the two,-
Like an octave flute and a tavern gong.
Now, being from Paris but recently,
This fine young man would show his skill;
And so they gave him, his hand to try,
A hospital-patient, extremely ill.
Some said that his liver was short of bile,
And some that his heart was oversize;
While some kept arguing, all the while,
He was cramm'd with tubercles up to the eyes.
This fine young man then up stepp'd he,
And all the doctors made a pause;
Said be,-" The man must die, you see,
By the fifty-seventh of Louis's laws.
"But since the case is a desperate one,
To explore his chest it may be well;
For, if he should die, and it were not done,
You know the autopsy would not tell."
Then out his Stethoscope he took,
And on it placed his curious ear:
Ma foi !" said he with konwing look,
Why, here is a sound that is mighty queer!
"The bourdonnement is very clearAmphoric buzzing, as I'm alive!" Five doctors took their turn to hearAmphoric buzzing!" said all the five. "There's empyema beyond a doubt; We'll plunge a trocar in his side:The diagnosis is made out!"—
They tapped the patient: so he died!
There was an Old Lady had long been sick,
And what was the matter none did know;
Her pulse was slow, though her tongue was quick,
She ask'd the young Doctor to visit her, so.
Now when his Stethoscope came out,
The flies again began to whizz:
Oh, Madam! the matter is clear, no doubt:
An aneurism there plainly is:
"The bruit de râpe, and the bruit de scie,
And the bruit de diable are all combined:
How happy our College all would be,
If they a case like this could find!"
Now when the Doctors and Surgeons found
A case so rare had been descried,
They every day her ribs did pound,
In squads of twenty: so she died!
Then Six Young Damsels, slight and frail,
Received this kind young Doctor's cares;
They were all getting thin and pale,
And short of breath on mounting stairs.
They all made rhymes with "sighs" and "skies,"
And loathed their puddings and butter'd rolls;
And dieted, much to their friends' surprise,
On pickles, and pencils, and chalk, and coals.
So fast their little hearts did bound,
The frightened insects buzzed the more!
So over all their chests he found
"The râle sufflant !'-" the râle sonore!"
He shook his head :-"There's grave disease;
I greatly fear you all must die;
A slight post-mortem, if you please,
Surviving friends would gratify."
The Six Young Damsels wept aloud!—
Which so prevailed on Six Young Men
That each his honest love avowed-
Whereat they all got well again!
The poor young man was all aghast!
The price of stethoscopes came down ;
And so he was reduced, at last,
To practise in a country town.
The Doctors being very sore,
A Stethoscope they did devise
That had a rammer to clear the bore,
With a knob at the end to kill the flies.—
Now use your ears, all you that can,
But don't forget to mind your eyes;
Or you may be cheated, like this young man,
By a couple of silly abnormal flies!
XIV.-TIGHT BOOTS.-Anonymous.
GIVE me your arm! the hour is late; my faltering footsteps deviate: Let's stop awhile. Go home-good-night! I can't get on:--my boots are tight! Why won't you stay? Oh, wretched woe! It's only half-past three, or so. We've not had much: I feel "all right," except my boots;-they're very tight! Old friend!-I love you more and more, though we have met but once before; since then, I've had a deal of sorrow; you'll come and dine with me to-morrow? What's this?a tear? I do not think they gave us half enough to drink. The moon up there looks precious queer, she's winking!-Ha! another tear? I'm not a man who courts a row, but you insulted me just now. By Jove, my friend, for what you said I've half a mind to punch your
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