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He sent her to a stylish school

'Twas in her thirteenth June; And with her, as the rules required,

6 Two towels and a spoon.” They braced my aunt against a board,

To make her straight and tall; They laced her up, they starved her down,

To make her light and small;
They pinched her feet, they singed her hair,

They screwed it up with pins ;-
Oh, never mortal suffered more
In

penance for her sins !
So, when my precious aunt was done,

My grandsire brought her back; (By daylight, lest some rabid youth

Might follow on the track.)
“ Ah !" said my grandsire, as he shook

Some powder in his pan,
What could this lovely creature do

Against a desperate man ?"
Alas! nor chariot, nor barouche,

Nor bandit cavalcade,
Tore from the father's trembling arms

His all-accomplished maid.
For her how happy had it been!

And heaven had spared to me To see one sad, ungathered rose

On my ancestral tree.

THE DUEL.--Hood.

In Brentford town, of old renown,

There lived a Mister Bray, Who fell in love with Lucy Bell, And so did Mister Clay.

To see her ride from Hammersmith,

By all it was allowed,
Such fair outside* was never seen, -

An angel on a cloud.
Said Mr. Bray to Mr. Clay,

6 You choose to rival me
And court Miss Bell; but there your court

No thoroughfare shall be.
Unless you now give up your suit,

You may repent your love;-
I, who have shot a pigeon match,

Can shoot a turtle-dove.

do :

So, pray,

before you woo her more,
Consider what

you
If you pop aught to Lucy Bell,

I'll pop it into you.”
Said Mr. Clay to Mr. Bray,

6. Your threat I do explode ;-
One who has been a volunteer

Knows how to prime and load.
And so I say

to
you,

unless
Your passion quiet keeps
I, who have shot, and hit bulls' eyes

May chance to hit a sheep's."
Now gold is oft for silver changed,

And that for copper red;
But these two went away to give

Each other change for lead
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

The seconds next forbore ;
And having taken one rash step,

They took a dozen more.
They next prepared each pistol pan,

Against the deadly strife;
By putting in the prime of death,

Against the prime of life.
Now all was ready for the foes ;

But when they took their stands, Fear made them tremble so, they found

They both were shaking hands.

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.

I do confess I did attach

Misconduct to your name !
If I withdraw the charge, will then

Your ranrod do the same ?"

Said Mr. B., “I do agree ;

But think of Honor's courts, If we be off without a shot,

There will be strange reports. But look! the morning now is bright,

Though cloudy it begun ; Why can't we aim above, as if

We had called out the sun ?"

So up into the harmless air

Their bullets they did send , And may

all other duels have That upshot in the end.

As for Ears,—and, speaking, Nose scornfully curled,

“ Their murmurs were equally trifling and teasing, And not all the Ears, Eyes, or Lips in the world,

Should keep him unblown, or prevent him from sneezing."

"To the Cheeks," he contended," he acted as screen,

And guarded them oft from the wind and the weather; And but that he stood like a landmark between,

The face had been nothing but cheek altogether!"
With eloquence thus he repelled their abuse,

With logical clearness defining the case;
And from thence came the saying, so frequent in use,

That an argument's plain" as the nose on your face !"

MONEY MAKES THE MARE GO.-BERQUIN.

DERBY AND SCRAPEWELL.

the

Derby. Good-morning, neighbor Scrapewell. I have half a dozen miles to ride to-day, and should be extremely obliged to you

if
you

would lend me your gray mare. 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 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 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.

me,

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. If any one should see her in her present plight, it would ruin the sale of her.

Der. O! a horse is soon curried, and my son Sam shall dispatch her at once.

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