I wish that I were lying, prone

And idle, where the trees are shady— Contemplative and quite alone,

Or talking in an undertone

To some beloved and lovely lady.

But, though I feel to-day a call

For reading silly books, or fishing,
Or idling where the trees are tall,
Or making love-yet, most of all,
I wish I knew the good of wishing.

THE DILIGENCE DRIVER.

ABLO PUIG is a fainily man,

PABLO

A Catholic staunch and a Catalan.

Her Majesty's mails he hath to drive;
His oaths are many, his horses five.

Alerte, caballitos!

Master is he of a clumsy craft,

Cranky forward and cranky aft;

A thing of a weird and ogglesome kind,

Cab in the front and 'bus behind.

Alerte, caballitos!

Yet Pablo Puig in his inmost soul

Is fond of his calling, upon the whole;
Many might think it infra dig.,

But there's little of pride in Pablo Puig.

Alerte, caballitos!

THE BALLAD OF THE BARYTONE.

A

SIMPLE barytone am I

A thing of light and joy;

And peacefully my days go by

As when I was a boy.

Of Rank and Fame let worldlings dream,

They have no charms for me ·

Far, far above them I esteem

My own-my upper G.

Oh music! sure thou dost belong

To soft Italia's clime,

Where Life and Love and sunny Song

Seem ever in their prime.