He sent her to a stylish school 'T was in her thirteenth June; They braced my aunt against a board, They pinched her feet, they singed her hair, Oh, never mortal suffered more So, when my precious aunt was done, Alas! nor chariot, nor barouche, Tore from the father's trembling arms His all-accomplished maid. For her how happy had it been! To see one sad, ungathered rose On THE DUEL.-HOOD. IN Brentford town, of old renown, And so did Mister Clay. To see her ride from Hammersmith, Such fair outside* was never seen,— An angel on a cloud. Said Mr. Bray to Mr. Clay, "You choose to rival me And court Miss Bell; but there your court Unless you now give up your suit, So, pray, before you woo her more, do: If you pop aught to Lucy Bell,- Said Mr. Clay to Mr. Bray, And so I say to you, unless I, who have shot, and hit bulls' eyes Now gold is oft for silver changed, But first they found a friend apiece, This pleasant thought to give That when they both were dead, they'd have Two seconds yet to live. * In England, women frequently ride on the outside of stage-coaches. To measure out the ground, not long And having taken one rash step, They took a dozen more. They next prepared each pistol pan, Now all was ready for the foes; But when they took their stands, Said Mr. C. to Mr. B., "Here one of us may fall, And, like St. Paul's Cathedral now, Be doomed to have a ball. As for Ears, and, speaking, Nose scornfully curled,— "To the Cheeks," he contended, "he acted as screen, With logical clearness defining the case; And from thence came the saying, so frequent in use, face!" MONEY MAKES THE MARE GO.-BERQUIN. DERBY AND SCRAPEWELL. Derby. Good-morning, neighbor Scrapewell. I have half a dozen miles to ride to-day, and should be extremely obliged you if you would lend me your gray mare. to Scrapewell. I should be happy, friend Derby, to oblige you; but I'm under the necessity of going immediately to the mill with three bags of corn. My wife wants the meal this very morning. Der. Then she must want it still, for I can assure you the mill does not go to-day. I heard the miller tell Will Davis that the water was too low. Scrape. You don't say so? That is bad indeed; for in that case I shall be obliged to gallop off to town for the meal. My wife would comb my head for me, if I should neglect it. Der. I can save you this journey, for I have plenty of meal at home, and will lend your wife as much as she wants. Scrape. Ah! neighbor Derby, I am sure your meal will never suit my wife. You can't conceive how whimsical she is. Der. If she were ten times more whimsical than she is, I am certain she would like it; for you sold it to me yourself, and you assured me that it was the best you ever had. 7 Scrape. Yes, yes, that 's true, indeed; I always have the best of everything. You know, neighbor Derby, that no one is more ready to oblige a friend than I am; but I must tell you, the mare this morning refused to eat hay; and truly, I am afraid she will not carry you. Der. Oh, never fear, I will feed her well with oats on the road. Scrrpe. Oats! neighbor; oats are very dear. Der. Never mind that. When I have a good job in view, I never stand for trifles. Scrape. But it is very slippery; and I am really afraid she will fall and break your neck. Der. Give yourself no uneasiness about that. The mare is certainly sure-footed; and, besides, you were just now talking of galloping her to town. Scrape. Well, then, to tell you the plain truth, though I wish to oblige you with all my heart, my saddle is torn quite in pieces, and I have just sent my bridle to be mended. Der. Luckily, I have both a bridle and a saddle hanging up at home. Scrape. Ah! that may be; but I am sure your saddle will never fit my mare. Der. Why, then I'll borrow neighbor Clodpole's. Scrape. Clodpole's! his will no more fit than yours will. Der. At the worst, then, I will go to my friend 'Squire Jones. He has half a score of them; and I am sure he will lend me one that will fit her. Scrape. You know, friend Derby, that no one is more willing to oblige his neighbors than I am. I do assure you, the beast should be at your service, with all my heart; but she has not been curried, I believe for three weeks past. Her foretop and mane want combing and cutting very much. any one should see her in her present plight, it would ruin the sale of her. If Der. O! a horse is soon curried, and my son Sam shall dispatch her at once. |