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THE OLD SEDAN CHAIR.
-BRAMsto.'s “ART of Politics." It stands in the stable yard, under the Sce,-here came the bearing straps; here eaves,
were the holes Propped up by a broomstick, and covered for the poles of the bearers—when once with leaves.
there were poles; It once was the pride of the gay and the It was cushioned with silk, it was wadded fair,
with hair,-But now 'tis a ruin, that old Sedan As the birds have discovered,—that old chair!
It is battered and tattered, -it little "Where's Troy?" says the poet! Look,avails
under the seat That once it was lacquered, and glistened Is a nest with four eggs,—'tis the favored with nails,
retreat For its leather is cracked into lozenge and Of the Muscovy hen, who has hatched, I square,
dare swear, Like a canvas by Wilkie,that old Sedan Quite an army of chicks in that old Sedan chair!
And yet-can't you fancy a face in the It has waited by portals where Garrick frame
has played; Of the window,—some high-headed dam- It has waited by Heidegger's “Grand sel or dame,
Masquerade"; Be-patched and be-powdered, just set by Formy Lady Codille, for my Lady the stair,
Bellair, While they raise up the lid of that old It has waited,-and waited, that old Sedan chair?
Can't you fancy Sir Plume, as beside her Oh, the scandals it knows! Oh, the tales he stands,
it could tell With his ruffles a-droop on his delicate Of Drum and Ridotto, of Rake and of hands,
Belle, With his cinnamon coat, with his laced Of Cock-fight and Levee, and (scarcely solitaire,
more rare!) As he lifts her out light from that old Of Fête-days at Tyburn, that old Sedan Sedan chair?