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Well—the moon shone bright

Upon “ Pen” that night,
When Pryce, being quit of his fuss and his fright,

Was scaling its side

With that sort of a stride
A man puts on when walking in search of a bride,

Mounting higher and higher,

He began to perspire,
Till, finding his legs were beginning to tire,

And feeling opprest

By a pain in his chest,
He paus’d, and turn'd round to take breath, and to rest;
When a lumbering noise from behind made him start,
And sent the blood back in full tide to his heart.

Which went pit-a-pat
As he cried out “ What's that?"
That very queer sound?

Does it come from the ground?
Or the air,-from above,-or below, or around -

It is not like Talking,

It is not like Walking,
It's not like the clattering of pot or of pan,
Or the tramp of a horse,—or the tread of a man,-
Or the hum of a crowd, —or the shouting of boys,-
It's really a deuced odd sort of a noise !

Mr. Pryce had begun

To “make up" for a run,
As in such a companion he saw no great fun,

When a single bright ray

Shone out on the way He had passed, and he saw, with no little dismay, Coming after him, bounding o'er crag and o’er rock, The deceased Mrs. Winifred's “ Grandmother's Clock ! 1" 'Twas so !—it had certainly moved from its place, And come, lumbering on thus, to hold him in chase;

'Twas the very same Head, and the very same Case,
And nothing was altered at all_but the Face !
In that he perceived, with no little surprise,
The two little winder-holes turned into eyes

Blazing with ire,

Like two coals of fire;
And the “ Name of the Maker” was changed to a Lip,
And the Hands to a Nose with a very red tip.
No !--he could not mistake it,—'twas she to the life !
The identical face of his poor defunct Wife !

One glance was enough,

Completely “ Quant. Suff.As the doctors write down when they send you their“ stuff," Like a weather-cock whirled by a vehement puff,

David turned himself round;

Ten feet of ground
He clear'd, in his start, at the very first bound !

All I ever heard of boys, women, or men,
Falls far short of Pryee, as he ran over

6 PEN !!!
He now reaches its brow,-

He has past it,--and now Having once gained the summit, and managed to cross it, he Rolls down the side with uncommon velocity

But, run as he will,

Or roll down the hill,
That bugbear behind him is after him still !
And close at his heels, not at all to his liking,
The terrible clock keeps on ticking and striking,

Till, exhausted and sore,

He can't run any more,
But falls as he reaches Miss Davis's door,
And screams when they rush out, alarm’d at his knock,
66 Oh! Look at the Clock !-Do!-Look at the Clock ! !"

Mr. David has since had a “ serious call,"
He never drinks ale, wine, or spirits, at all,

And they say he is going to Exeter Hall

To make a grand speech,

And to preach and to teach People that “they can't brew their malt liquor too small !" And still on each evening when pleasure fills up," At the old Goat-in-Boots, with Metheglin, each cup,

Mr. Pryce, if he's there,

Will get into “ The Chair," And make all his quondam associates stare By calling aloud to the Landlady's daughter, "Patty, bring a cigar, and a glass of Spring Water !" The dial he constantly watches; and when The long hand 's at the “ XII,” and the short at the “X,”

He gets on his legs,

Drains his glass to the dregs,
Takes his hat and great-coat off their several pegs,
With the President's hammer bestows his last knock,
And says solemnly-"Gentlemen!

“ LOOK AT THE CLOCK !!!"

THE MARCH WIND.-ANNE P. ADAMS.

Over the earth,

In frolicsome mirth,
The March wind goes careering;

Through pine-bough he sighs,

O’er mountains he hies,
By a compass invisible steering.

List to his song,

You'll hear it ere long,
Down through the chimney he 'll whistle,

Now it is shrill,

Anon, he is still,
As if stealing down from a thistle.

"From caves of the north

Where the storm-king comes forth, I come in search of new pleasures ;

Frolic and play,

I ask for to-day,
Tomorrow I'll open my treasures.

Ha! see the curls

Of these merry girls ;
What fun it will be to untwist them!

That gentleman's cloak,

He'll think it no joke-
But in taking it off I'll assist him!

I've found out a crack

In this cabin, good lack !
I'll use it, nor ask for permission,

Fellows like me,

I plainly can see,
Never need knock for admission.

How cold they must be,

Those poor women, three, When I play hide and seek thro' their dwelling

Their fire burns low,

They are hungry, I know,
What a tale their pale faces are telling!

To that mansion so gay

I will hurry away,
And ask the good folks for assistance;

Quick as thought, rushing by,

With a wail and a sigh,
The wind died away in the distance.

CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES.- ALLINGHAM.

ROBIN ROUGHHEAD, SNACKS AND VILLAGERS.

(Robin Roughhcad discovered raking hay.) Robin. Ah! work, work, work! all day long, and no such thing as stopping a moment to rest! for there's old Snacks, the steward, always upon the lookout; and if he sees one, slap he has it down in his book, and then there's sixpence gone, plump. (Comes forward.) I do hate that old chrap, and that's the truth on 't. Now if I was lord of this place, I'd make one rule—there should be no such thing as work : it should be one long holiday all the year round.

Your great folks have strange whims in their heads, that's for sartir. I don't know what to make of ’um, not I.

Now there's all yon great park there, kept for his lordship to look at, and his lordship has not seen it these twelve years. Ah! if it was mine, I'd let all the villagers turn their cows in there, and it should not cost 'em a farthing; then, as the parson said last Sunday, I should be as rich as any in the land, for I should have the blessings of the poor. Dang it! here come Snacks. Now I shall get a fine jobation, I suppose. (Enter Snacks, boving very obsequiously-Robin takes his hat

off, and stands staring at him.) I be main tired, Master Snacks; so I stopt to rest myself a little; I hope you'll excuse it. I wonder what the dickens he's a grinning at. (Aside.)

Snacks. Excuse it! I hope your lordship's infinite good-. ness and condescension will excuse your lordship's most obsequious, devoted, and humble servant, Timothy Snacks, who is come into the presence of your lordship, for the purpose of informing your lordship

Rob. Lordship! he, he, he! Wall! I never knew as I had a hump before. Why, Master Snacks, you grow funny in your

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old age.

Snacks. No, my lord, I know my duty better; I should never think of being funny with a lord.

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