science and experience dat it require to make de soup, de omelette Col. The mischief take your omelette, sir. Do you mean seriously and gravely to ask me seven hundred pounds a year for your services? Ris. Oui, vraiment, mon col-o-nel. (Taking a pinch of snuff from a gold snuff-box.) Col. Why, then, sir, I can't stand this any longer. Seven hundred pounds! Double it, sir, and I'll be your cook for the rest of my life. Good morning, sir. (In an angry manner, advancing towards Rissolle, who retreats out of the door.) Seven hundred pounds! Seven hundred-mon col-o-nelrascal ! MY AUNT.-O. W. HOLMES. My aunt! my dear unmarried aunt! I know it hurts her, though she looks Her waist is ampler than her life, For life is but a span. My aunt! my poor deluded aunt! Her father-grandpapa! forgive This erring lip its smiles Vowed she would make the finest girl Within a hundred miles. He sent her to a stylish school 'T was in her thirteenth June; And with her, as the rules required, "Two towels and a spoon." They braced my aunt against a board, They laced her up, they starved her down, They pinched her feet, they singed her hair, Oh, never mortal suffered more So, when my precious aunt was done, "What could this lovely creature do Against a desperate man ?" Alas! nor chariot, nor barouche, Tore from the father's trembling arms His all-accomplished maid. For her how happy had it been! THE DUEL-HOOD. IN Brentford town, of old renown, Who fell in love with Lucy Bell, And so did Mister Clay. To see her ride from Hammersmith, Such fair outside* was never seen,— An angel on a cloud. Said Mr. Bray to Mr. Clay, "You choose to rival me And court Miss Bell; but there your cour Unless you now give up your suit, I, who have shot a pigeon match, And so unless I say to you, I, who have shot, and hit bulls' eyes Now gold is oft for silver changed, Each other change for lead But first they found a friend apiece, This pleasant thought to give That when they both were dead, they'd have Two seconds yet to live. * In England, women frequently ride on the outside of stage-coucnes, To measure out the ground, not long And having taken one rash step, They took a dozen more. They next prepared cach pistol pan, Now all was ready for the foes; But when they took their stands, Fear made them tremble so, they found They both were shaking hands. Said Mr. C. to Mr. B., "Here one of us may fall, And, like St. Paul's Cathedral now, Be doomed to have a ball. I do confess I did attach Misconduct to your name! If I withdraw the charge, will then Said Mr. B., "I do agree ;— If we be off without a shot, There will be strange reports. But look! the morning now is bright, Though cloudy it begun ; Why can't we aim above, as if PADDY'S METAMORPHOSIS.-THOMAS MOORE. ABOUT fifty years since, in the days of our daddies Some West Indian island, whose name I forget, Was the region then chosen for the scheme so romantie And such the success the first colony met, That a second, soon after, set sail o'er the Atlantic. Behold them now safe at the long-looked for shore, Sailing in between banks that the Shannon might greet > And thinking of friends, whom but two years before, They had sorrowed to lose, but would soon again meet And, hark! from the shore a glad welcome there came"Arrah, Paddy from Cork, is it you, my swate boy ?" While Pat stood astounded, to hear his own name, Thus hailed by black creatures, who capered for joy Can it possibly be ?-half amazement-half doubt, Pat listens again-rubs his eyes and looks steady; Then heaves a deep sigh, and in horror yells out :-"Dear me !-only think-black and curly already!" Deceived by that well-mimicked brogue in his ears, MORAL. 'Tis thus, but alas !—by a marvel more true Than is told in this rival of Ovid's best stories, |