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"Where such a mode of death prevails, of course "The executioner must needs be clever,

"Expert and dexterous in decapitation"One who can wield the sword of death with force, "And from the hapless trunk the caput sever, "With nought of trembling or precipitation."

"Well, at this time," said Tom," when we were there, "The headsman chanced to die, and not a man "Among the semi-barbarous race "Had skill enough to fill his place; "We Christians, therefore, quickly summon'd were "Tappear before the Dey, whose orders ran, "That we should try our skill on traitors three, "And he that did excel should thence be FREE.

"With such incitement, who'd not do his best? "The swords were brought-the wretches half undress'd;

"Whilst we, poor slaves, in anxious expectation, "Waited the dreadful 'note of preparation.'

"Erect the culprits stood-no blocks had they to die

on,

"For lux'ries there are scarce, you may rely on.

"The Spaniard first was call'd on to perform
"His task-when, with a vengeful look,
"His sword he brandish'd, and with vigorous arm
"His victim's head he from his shoulders took
"At one tremendous blow-

""Twas sure, yet far from slow.

"The Frenchman next, with much deliberation, "He tied around the neck of wretch the second "A piece of narrow tape;

"See, see!' cried he, I'll cut this tape asunder;
"Behold me strike, ye Algerines; nor wonder
"At any thing you hear of the Grande Nation ?
"And ere a dozen moments could be reckon'd,
"The trunkless head did gape;

e

"The tape was cut in twain-so well divided, "That half remained above and half below; "So just the Frenchman's aim, so sure his blow, "My poor attempt already was derided,

"But then," said Tom, "I knew what I could do"So back my arm I drew,

"Then round I swung the sword with all my might; "It flew like lightning o'er the fellow's shoulders, "Yet there, apparently unhurt he stood! "Which so amazed the barbarous beholders, "Who saw my aim was good,

"That first they stared at him, and then at me, "Then at my sword, which they could plainly see, "Reek'd with the culprit's blood!

"The wretch now spoke-says he, 'My head's all right.'

"Is it, my lad? said I-Come, then, we'll try
"Whether a dead man has not told a lie;
"Now spit, my boy! He tried to nod assent,
"By doing which, his body forward bent,
"His carcass totter'd-off his head-piece dropt,
"And all allow'd he'd been most neatly cropt.

"I should have been the headsman, had I staid;
"But gallant Exmouth, with his British thunder,
"To Algiers came-the city he bombarded-
"The savage dogs were fill'd with fear and wonder
"Heads flew off fast enough without my aid;

"So I the butchering business soon discarded;
"Call'd on his Lordship-made my best salaam-
"Set sail for England's shore-and here I am."

QUESTION AND ANSWER.

"Can you, by any means, the cause divine,
"That U and I together ne'er can dine?"
"O yes, the reason all must plainly see,
"Who know that I can't come till after T."

OH, ERIN MY COUNTRY.

(MOORE.)

Oh, Erin, my country! although thy harp slumbers,
And lies in oblivion in Tara's old hall,

With scarce one kind hand to awaken its numbers,
Or sound a low dirge to the sons of Fingal.
The trophies of warfare may hang there neglected,
Dead as the warriors to whom they were known,
But the harp of old Erin will still be respected,

Whilst there lives but one bard to enliven its tone.

Oh, Erin, my country! I love thy green bowers,
No music to me like thy murm'ring rills;
The shamrock to me is the finest of flowers,

And nought is more dear than thy daisy-clad hills; Thy caves, whether used by thy warriors or sages, Are still sacred held in each Irishman's heart, Thy ivy-crown'd turrets, the pride of past ages, Though mould'ring in ruins, do grandeur impart.

Britannia may boast of her lion and armour,

And glory when she her old wooden walls views, Caledonia may boast of her pibroch and claymore, And pride in her philibeg, kilt, and her hose. But where is the nation to rival old Erin ?And where is the country such heroes can boast ?

In battle they're brave as the tiger or lion,

And bold as the eagle that flies round the coast.

The breeze often shakes both the rose and the thistle, Whilst Erin's green shamrock lies hush'd in the

dale;

In safety it rests while the stormy winds whistle,
And grows undisturb'd in the moss of the vale..
Hail, fairest isle in Neptune's whole ocean!
Thou land of Saint Patrick, my parent, agrah!
Cold, cold must the heart be, and void of emotion,
That loves not the music of Erin go bragh!

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Job Jenkins dealt in grocery,
In Fleet Street, twenty-four,
And rarely went a customer
Displeased from Jenkins' door.
With sugar, spice, and plums as well,
His shop was amply fill'd;
And better tea than there was bought,
No tea-pot e'er distill'd.

In short, a thrifty man was Job,
And stuck to business so,

That pleasure fail'd to tempt him from
His happy home to go.

And many a year was past and gone,
For so the story tells,

Since he had ventured far beyond
The sound of Dunstan's bells.

Job had a num'rous family,

Some fourteen babes, I ween,
Who, with their Dad, all in their best,
On Sundays oft were seen-
Pacing to church, a healthy line!
In order, two and two ;-
But here the Muse begins to sing
Of Mrs. Jenkins too.

She was a fair and comely dame
As ever wore Leghorn;
Active she was, and " on the foot,"
As she said, "night and morn !"

One evening-'twas in hot July-
She to her spouse drew near;
And thus with softest smile observed,
"Job Jenkins! Oh, my dear!

"I take it very hard indeed,

"A prudent wife, like me,

"Can't go with other folks abroad,
"Fine company to see.

"What service are my silken gowns,
"My plume, and furbelow,
"If never seen?-Our children, Job,
"Should relaxation know.

"Friend Sarcenet keeps his country house,
"To please his bantlings three-
"Bantlings inferior, Job, to ours,
"As hay is to Bohea.

66 And, though I say it of myself, "Without a grain of pride,

"I don't think folks at me would sneer, "By Madam Sarcenet's side.

"There's neighbour Lamp, the oilmonger.
"Not half so rich as you;
"Yet every Sunday out he rides
"To Richmond or to Kew.

"Suppose then, Job, by way of chance,
"Like other folks to seem,
"We take a trip next Sunday, love,
"To Richmond, by the steam?" ́

Job hung his lip, but, noting soon
The tear in Madam's eye,
He gave her then a hearty buss,
And promised to comply.

The children caught the welcome "yes!"
Each breast with joy it fills-
And O! what ironing was there

Of stockings, caps, and frills!

Next Sunday came; without a cloud
Appear'd the clear blue sky:

Two boats are hired, and o'er the Thames,
They float right merrily.

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