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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 daffo

dils 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 heartyHe 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-and

seven sherry?” But he answered, “ I'm so happy—no profes

sion could be dearer If I am not humming • Tra! la! la !' I'm sing

ing “Tirer, lirer!' “First I go and make the patties, and the pud

dings and the jellies, Then I make a sugar bird-cage, which upon a

table swell is;

“Then I polish all the silver, which a supper

table 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 himAnd I rushed away, exclaiming, “ I have found

him ! I have found him!” And I heard the gentle pieman in the road be

hind 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 answer

I 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-cherish

And”-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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