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Now is he a green array,

And now an "eve" and now a "day;"
Now he's town gone out of town,
And now a feast in civic gown,
And now the pantomime and clown
With a crack upon the crown
And all sorts of tumbles down;
And then he's music in the night,
And the money gotten by't;

He's a man that can't write verses,
Bringing some to ope your purses;
He's a turkey, he's a goose,
He's oranges unfit for use,
He's a kiss that loves to grow
Underneath the mistletoe,

And he's forfeits, cards, and wassails,
And a king and queen with vassals,
All the "quizzes" of the time
Drawn and quarter'd with a rhyme;
And then for their revival's sake,
Lo! he's an enormous cake,

With a sugar on the top

Seen before in many a shop,

Where the boys could gaze for ever,
They think the cake so very clever.
He's a dinner where you see
Every body's family;

Beef and pudding, and mince-pies,
And little boys with laughing eyes,

Whom their seniors ask arch questions,

Feigning fears of indigestions,

(As if they, forsooth, the old ones IIadn't privately tenfold ones!)

IIe's a dinner, and a fire,

Heap'd beyond your heart's desire,

Heap'd with logs, and baked with coals,
Till it roasts your very souls,

And your cheek the fire outstares,
And you all push back your chairs,
And the mirth becomes too great,
And you all sit up too late,
Nodding all with too much head,
And so go off to too much bed.


The Philosopher and her Father.
A SOUND came booming through the air-
"What is that sound?" quoth I.
My blue-eyed pet, with golden hair,
Made answer, presently,

"Papa, you know it very well

That sound-it was Saint Pancras Bell."

"My own Louise, put down the cat,

And come and stand by me; I'm sad to hear you talk like that, Where's your philosophy?

That sound-attend to what I tell

That sound was not Saint Pancras Bell.

"Sound is the name the sage selects

For the concluding term

Of a long series of effects,

Of which that blow's the germ.

The following brief analysis
Shows the interpolations, Miss.

"The blow which, when the clapper slips,

Falls on your friend, the Bell, Changes its circle to ellipse,

(A word you'd better spell,) And then comes elasticity, Restoring what it used to be.

"Nay, making it a little more,
The circle shifts about,

As much as it shrunk in before
The Bell, you see, swells out;
And so a new ellipse is made,
(You're not attending, I'm afraid.)

"This change of form disturbs the air, Which in its turn behaves

In like elastic fashion there,

Creating waves on waves;

These press each other onward, dear,
Until the outmost finds your ear."

"And then, papa, I hear the sound,
Exactly what I said;

You're only talking round and round,
Just to confuse my head.

All that you say about the Bell,

My Uncle George would call a 'sell.'

"Not so, my child, my child, not so, Sweet image of your sire!

A long way farther we must go

Before it's time to tire.

This wondrous, wandering wave, or tide, Has only reached your ear's outside.

"Within that ear the surgeons find
A tympanum, or drum,

Which has a little bone behind,-
Malleus, it's called by some;

But those not proud of Latin Grammar,
Humbly translate it as the hammer.

"The wave's vibrations this transmits
On to the incus bone,

(Incus means anvil, which it hits,)
And this transfers the tone
To the small os orbiculare,
The tiniest bone that people carry.

"The stapes next-the name recalls
A stirrup's form, my daughter-
Joins three half-circular canals,

Each fill'd with limpid water; Their curious lining, you'll observe, Made of the auditory nerve.

"This vibrates next-and then we find

The mystic work is crown'd;

For then my daughter's gentle Mind
First recognizes sound.

See what a host of causes swell

To make what up

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you call the Bell.'"

Awhile she paused, my bright Louise,

And ponder'd on the case;

Then, settling that he meant to tease,
She slapp'd her father's face.
"You bad old man, to sit and tell
Such gibberygosh about a Bell!"


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The Little Seaman.

In her lofty bower a virgin sat
On skins, embroidering gold,

When there came a little seaman by,

And would the maid behold.

But with golden dice they played, they played away!

"And hear now, little seaman,

Hear what I say to thee!

An' hast thou any mind this hour

To play gold dice with me ?"

But with golden dice they played, they played away!

"But how and can I play now
The golden dice with thee?

For no red shining gold I have
That I can stake 'gainst thee.".

But with golden dice they played, they played away!

"And surely thou canst stake thy jacket,

Canst stake thy jacket gray;

While there against myself will stake

My own fair gold rings twae."

But with golden dice they played, they played away!

So then the first gold die, I wot,

On table-board did run;

And the little seaman lost his stake,

And the pretty maiden won.

But with golden dice they played, they played away!

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