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"Mister Martin Tupper, Poet Close, I beg of you inform us";

But my question seemed to throw them both into a rage enormous.

Mister Close expressed a wish that he could only get anigh to me.

And Mister Martin Tupper sent the following reply to me:

"A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit,"

Which I know was very clever; but I didn't understand it.

Seven weary years I wandered—Patagonia, China, Norway,

Till at last I sank exhausted at a pastry-cook his doorway.

There were fuchsias and geraniums, and daffodils and myrtle,

So I entered, and I ordered half a basin of mock turtle.

He was plump and he was chubby, he was smooth and he was rosy,

And his little wife was pretty, and particularly

cozy.

And he chirped and sang, and skipped about, and laughed with laughter hearty— He was wonderfully active for so very stout a party.

And I said, "O gentle pieman, why so very, very merry?

Is it purity of conscience, or your one-andseven sherry?"

But he answered, "I'm so happy-no profession could be dearer

If I am not humming 'Tra! la! la!' I'm singing Tirer, lirer!'

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"First I go and make the patties, and the puddings and the jellies,

Then I make a sugar bird-cage, which upon a table swell is;

"Then I polish all the silver, which a suppertable lacquers;

Then I write the pretty mottoes which you find inside the crackers-"

"Found at last!" I madly shouted. "Gentle pieman, you astound me!"

Then I waved the turtle-soup enthusiastically

round me!

And I shouted and I danced until he'd quite a crowd around him

And I rushed away, exclaiming, "I have found him! I have found him!"

And I heard the gentle pieman in the road behind me trilling,

"Tira! lira!' stop him, stop him! 'Tra! la! la!' the soup's a shilling!"

But until I reached Elvira's home, I never, never waited,

And Elvira to her Ferdinand's irrevocably

mated!

WILLIAM S. GILBERT.

UP THE AISLE-NELL LATINE'S

WEDDING.

TAKE my cloak-and now fix my veil, Jenny;
How silly to cover one's face!
I might as well be an old woman;

But then there's one comfort-it's lace.
Well, what has become of those ushers!
O pa! have you got my bouquet?—
I'll freeze standing here in the lobby—
Why doesn't the organist play?—
They're started at last-what a bustle!—

Stop, pa!-they're not far enough-wait! One minute more-now!-do keep step, pa! There, drop my trail, Jane!-is it straight? I hope I look timid, and shrinking;

The church must be perfectly fullGood gracious! now don't walk so fast, pa!— He don't seem to think that trains pull. The chancel at last-mind the step, pa!— I don't feel embarrassed at all.

But, my! what's the minister saying?
Oh, I know; that part 'bout Saint Paul.
I hope my position is graceful;

How awkwardly Nelly Dane stood !— "Not lawfully be joined together—

Now speak"-as if any one would!Oh, dear! now it's my turn to answerI do wish that pa would stand still. "Serve him, love, honor, and keep him "— How sweetly he says it!-I will.

Where's pa?—there, I knew he'd forget it, When the time came to give me away"I, Helena, take thee-love-cherishAnd "-well, I can't help it—" obey." Here, Maud, take my bouquet-don't drop it!

I hope Charley's not lost the ring; Just like him!no!-goodness, how heavy! It's really an elegant thing.

It's a shame to kneel down in white satin—

And the flounce, real old lace-but I must;

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