By jolly! what desput great chickens!
As big as old roosters, I van!
And turkeys as fat as the dickens,

I never did see such, I swan !

And then there's the gravy and tatur,
Gaul darn it! how mealy and fat!
And puddings! it does beat all nater?
I could not get one in my hat.

My stars! what a thundering great pie !
Made right out of pumpkins, I guess;
I wonder 'f the crust's made of rye!
I snuggers! I'll eat a whole mess.
By thunder! only just look o' here,
And see what a big gob of plums!
And cake full o' lasses, oh dear!

'Od rot it! how it sticks to my gums!
And then there's the fiddling and dancing
And gals! all as cute as a whistle!
The fellows are kicking and prancing,
Their legs are as limber as gristle.
By mighty! if there a'n't our Sal,
Jumps up and down like a grasshopper!
Gosh zucks! what's got into the gal!
I don't 'spose the divil can stop her.

By the powers of mud! how they blow it,
What darn'd curious capers! I swow!
Oh I wish I knew how to go it,

I'd kick up a bobbery, I vow.

XXXI. EZEKIEL AND THE DEACON.

[Farmers' and Manufacturers' Journal. Providence.] THERE'S Something very curious in the manner In which you can twist words into rhymes,

Single and double;

To see how one thing with another chimes;
That is, if you have not wit enough to plan a
Story, or something ele to write about,
Without

Much trouble.

Suppose we try it now. One ASA STOKES,
One of those men whom every thing provokes,
A surly-tempered, evil-minded, bearish,
Ill-natured kind of being;

He was the deacon of the parish,

"Very cold weather, deacon Stokes, to night." "Begone, you vile,

Insolent dog; or I'll

Give you a warming; and should serve you right; You villain, it is time to end your hoax."

"Why, bless your soul and body, deacon Stokes, Don't be so cross;

When I've come here

In this severe

Night, which is cold enough to kill a horse,

For your advice

Upon a very difficult and nice

Question :-now, Lord bless you,

Deacon, do make haste and dress you."

"Well, well, out with it-if it must be so. Be quick about it.

I'm very cold."

"Well, deacon, I don't doubt it.

In a few words the matter can be told.

Deacon, the case is this:-I want to know,
If this cold weather holds all summer here,
What time GREEN PEAS will be along next year ?"

XXXII. POWERS OF RHYME.

[Inquirer. Nantucket.]

PEOPLE don't commonly discern

The difference 'twixt POETRY and RHYME:
The former can be made to thrill, and burn,
By master geniuses-and yet

No two words shall together chime.

E'en prose, so called, may be po-et

Ical, and ring upon the ear

Harmoniously, without a grain of jingle ;
While rhyme, all sound, with oftentimes
No symptom of idea,

Clinking, like handsful of new dimes,
Causes one's very brain to tingle.

Some folks, new words will manufacture,
That have no sense or meaning

They would denominate a crack a cracture,
Or, to make rhyme, call obloquy obscening!
The name of my French friend, Piemont,
(A name that's smooth enough in song)
Has often been distorted into Pie-mont-
A hill of pies!--just to make rhyme on't!

This brings me to the tale that I was going
To tell, of Toby Grizzle, a rough clown,
Who grew up in the country-for in town
The folks are polished, and extremely knowing.
Toby had never seen great towns and cities,
Where houses grow together by the acre;
To die then, and see only what his Maker
Had done in lands, and woods, and cattle--
Thought Toby," "twere a thousand pities;
So, down to Boston, in my cart I'll rattle."
So down he went,

And turn'd up at the Indian Queen;
Amazement and astonishment

At what he saw,

And what was to be seen,

Hung heavily upon his under jaw.
This made him hungry, and he bought
A yard of gingerbread to stay his yearnings,
And after various crooks and turnings
He got into the parlour, as he thought;
But, reader, 'twas the kitchen-

So droll was every thing—and so bewitching.
The cook, of his poetic powers was boasting;
Betwixt whom and the scullion there arose
A disputation, whether rhyme or prose
Most clear ideas conveyed--

Beef was there roasting
By dint of a huge jack-custom antique!
"Now," quoth the cook, "I'll speak
In verse to this fat lout, and ascertain
Whether my rhymes be not, to all men, plain."
Says he to Toby, "may I be so bold
As to inquire how many hours have roll'd,
Since you into these regions strolled?"
Quoth Toby, casting up his eager looks

To where the giddy jack-wheel whirled

"Odsbluddikins, and snaggers! rat it, and adzooks!

Your clock goes faster than aunt Katy's,

And I'll be skinn'd and darn'd, for all the world
If I can see to tell what time of day 'tis."

XXXIII. BLACK vs. BLUE,

[Catskill Recorder.]

THE eyes that glow with sparkling jet,
And those that swim in orbs of blue-

Black versus Azure, strove to get
The prize to beauty's empire due.

R

The courts below were moved, but fail'd
To solve a case of such impression;
Even pleaders melted at the tale,

'Twas told with such a soft expression.

Conflicting claims inflame dispute,
Black was too bold, and Blue too stupid;
At length this most important suit
Came before Mr. Justice Cupid.

And never was a case before

Perplexed with such intense confusionAnd never had the dark robed corps Before been feed with such profusion.

The witnesses were-burning Kisses;
The advocates-voluptuous Sighs;
The proofs-unutterable Blisses;
And the reporters--Extacies.

Forbear, to both the prize is due,

'Twas thus the god decreed,-forbear! Woman is fair with eyes of blue→→→ With eyes of Black, she still is fair.

Black more vivacity impart;

In Blue, more tenderness we find ;
Black indicates finesse and art,
And Blue the gentleness of mind.

Black is too subject to caprice-
Wo to the gazer's heart! but Blue
Is free from guile and artifice,
Is tender, delicate and true.

In Black, I've placed my shafts of fire,
But Blue in liquid languor roll;
Black, sparkling black, transports inspire,
But Blue enchants, dissolves the soul.

BOOK IV.

BIOGRAPHICAL AND OBITUARY.

TO THE MEMORY OF DEPARTED SOULS.

[Courier. Charleston.]

HUSHED is the gale, and calm the billows, that have bleached the bones of the sufferers. Their voices have sunk beneath the struggle of an awful death; and an agonized family, together with a numerous circle of friends, now view with mute and reverential feelings, the dire decree of an all-wise and wonder-working Maker. Submissive to his will, they complain not; and confident, that while with one hand he smiteth, so with the other doth he heal, they join in pious deference and declare," the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord."

No marbled tomb nor sculptured image can speak the praises of the good. Their memories live in our affection, and their worth is engraved indelibly on our hearts. The living are their monuments, and when they, like frail mortality have perished, how truly can we say, "the evil that men do, lives after them; the good is oft interred with the dead." Aware of these facts, a friend offers this last sad tribute to the memory of Dr. LEVI MYERS, of Georgetown, who, together with his wife, three daughters, and youngest son, were swept from the bosom of their family, during the violence of the gale of the 27th.*