again I've scratched it so, and all in vain. Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!" Just as he said this, what should hap at the chamber door but a gentle tap? "Bless us," cried the Mayor, "what's that?" (with the Corporation as he sat, looking little though wondrous fat; nor brighter was his eye, nor moister, than a too-long-opened oyster, save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous for a plate of turtle green and glutinous), “Only a scraping of shoes on the mat? Anything like the sound of a rat makes my heart go pit-a-pat!”

"Come in!" the Mayor cried, looking bigger: and in did come the strangest figure. His queer long coat from heel to head was half of yellow and half of red; and he himself was tall and thin, with sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, and light loose hair, yet swarthy skin, no tuft on cheek nor beard on chin, but lips where smiles went out and in—there was no guessing his kith and kin! And nobody could enough admire the tall man and his quaint attire: quoth one: "It's as my great grandsire, starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone, had walked this way from his painted tombstone.”

He advanced to the council-table: and, "Please your honours," said he, "I'm able, by means of a secret charm, to draw all creatures living beneath the sun, that creep, or swim, or fly, or run, after me so as you never saw ! And I chiefly use my charm on creatures that do people harm, the mole, and toad, and newt, and viper; and people call me the Pied Piper." (And here they noticed round his neck a scarf of red and yellow stripe, to match with his coat of the self-same cheque; and at the scarf-end's hung a pipe; and his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying as if impatient to be playing upon this pipe, as low it dangled over his vesture so old-fangled.) "Yet,” said he, "poor piper as I am, in Tartary I freed the Cham, last June, from his huge swarm of gnats; I eased in Asia the Nizam of a monstrous brood of vampire-bats: and, as for what your brain bewilders, if I can rid your town of rats will you give me a thousand guilders?" "One? fifty thousand!"- -was. the exclamation of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.

Into the street the Piper stept, smiling first a little smile, as if he knew what magic slept in his quiet pipe the while; then, like a musical adept, to blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled,—and green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled like a candle flame where salt is sprinkled; and ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, you heard as if an army muttered; and the muttering grew to a grumbling; and the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling; and out of the house the rats came tumbling. Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats, grave old plodders, gay

young friskers. Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, cocking tails and pricking whiskers, families by tens and dozens, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives-followed the Piper for their lives. From street to street he piped advancing, and step for step they followed dancing, until they came to the river Weser, wherein all plunged and perished. You should have heard the Hamelin people ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple! "Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles! poke out the nests and block up the holes! consult with carpenters and builders, and leave in our town not even a trace of the rats!"—when suddenly up the face of the Piper perked in the market-place, with a “FIRST, IF YOU PLEASE, MY THOUSAND GUILDERS!”

A thousand guilders? The Mayor looked blue; so did the Corporation too. For council dinners made rare havock with Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock; and half the money would replenish their cellar's biggest but with Rhenish. To pay this sum to a wandering fellow with a gypsy coat of red and yellow! "Beside," quoth the Mayor, with a knowing wink, "our business was done at the river's brink; we saw with our eyes the vermin sink, and what's dead can't come to life, I think. So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink from the duty of giving you something to drink, and a matter of money to put in your poke; but, as for the guilders, what we spoke of them, as you very well know, was in joke. Beside, our losses have made us thrifty; a thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!"

The piper's face fell, and he cried, "No trifling! I can't wait; beside! I've promised to visit by dinner-time Bagdat, and accepted the prime of the Head Cook's pottage, all he's rich in, for having left in the Caliph's kitchen, of a nest of scorpions no survivor—with him I proved no bargain-driver; with you, don't think I'll bate a stiver! And folks who put me in a passion may find me pipe to another fashion."

"How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I'll brook being worse treated than a Cook? Insulted by a lazy ribald with idle pipe and vesture piebald? You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst, blow your pipe there till you burst!"

Once more he stept into the street; and to his lips again laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane; and ere he blew three notes (such sweet soft notes as yet musician's cunning never gave the enraptured air) there was a rustling, that seemed like a bustling of merry crowds justling, at pitching and hustling, small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering, and, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering, out came the children running. All the little boys and girls, with rosy cheeks

and flaxen curls, and sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, tripping and skipping, ran merrily after the wonderful music with shouting and laughter.

The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood as if they were changed into blocks of wood, unable to move a step, or cry to the children merrily skipping by, and could only follow with the eye that joyous crowd at the Piper's back. But how the Mayor was on the rack, and the wretched Council's bosoms beat, as the Piper turned from the High Street to where the Weser rolled its waters right in the way of their sons and daughters! However he turned from south to west, and to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, and after him the children pressed; great was the joy in every breast. “He never can cross that mighty top! he's forced to let the piping drop, and we shall see our children stop!" When lo, as they reached the mountain's side, a wondrous portal opened wide, as if a cavern was suddenly hollowed; and the Piper advanced and the children followed, and when all were in to the very last, the door in the mountain side shut fast.

So, Willy, let you and me be wipers of scores out with all men— especially pipers: and whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice, if we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise.

(201.) A WATERLOO BALLAD.

Thomas Hood, poet and humorist, b. 1798, d. 1845. The predominant characteristics of Hood's genius are humorous fancies grafted on melancholy impressions. His best poems are his serious ones, although he has won deservedly the reputation of having been "the greatest punster that ever lived."

To Waterloo, with sad ado, and many a sigh and groan, amongst the dead came Patty Head, to look for Peter Stone. “Oh, prithee tell, good sentinel, if I shall find him here; I'm come to weep upon his corse, my Ninety-second dear! Into our town a sergeant came, with ribbons all so fine a-flaunting in his cap; alas! his bow enlisted mine. They taught him how to turn his toes, and stand as stiff as starch; I thought that it was Love and May, but it was Love and March. A sorry march indeed to leave the friends he might have kep'; no march of intellect it was, but quite a foolish step. Oh, prithee tell, good sentinel, if hereabout he lies: I want a corse with reddish hair, and very sweet blue eyes." Her sorrow on the sentinel appeared to deeply strike; "Walk in," he said, "among the dead, and pick out which you like." And soon she picked out Peter Stone, half turned into a corse; a cannon was his bolster, and his mattress was a horse. "Oh, Peter Stone! oh, Peter Stone! sure here has

been a skrimmage; what have they done to your poor breast, that used to hold my image?" "Oh, Patty Head! oh, Patty Head! you've come to my last kissing, before I'm set in the gazette as wounded, dead, and missing. This very night a merry dance in Brussels was to be; instead of opening a ball, a ball has opened me. Its billet every bullet has, and well it does fulfil it; I wish mine hadn't come so straight, but been a crooked billet. And then there came a cuirassier, and cut me on the chest: he had no pity in his heart for he had steeled his breast. Next thing, a lancer with a lance began to thrust away; I call'd for quarter-but alas! it was not quarter-day: he ran his spear right through my arm, just here above the joint; O Patty dear, it was no joke, although it had a point. With loss of blood I fainted off, as dead as women do; but soon by charging over me, the Cold-stream brought me too. With kicks, and cuts, and balls, and blows, I throb and ache all over; I'm quite convinced the field of Mars is not a field of clover. O, why did I a soldier turn for paltry gain and pelf! I might have been a butcher in business for myself. O why did I the bounty take!" (and here he gasped for breath) "my shilling's worth of list is nailed upon the door of death. Without a coffin I shall lie, and sleep my sleep eternal; not even a shell,—my only chance of being made a kernal. Oh, Patty dear, our wedding bells shall never ring at Chester; here must I lie in honour's bed, that is not worth a tester. Farewell my regimental mates, with whom I used to dress; my corps is changed, and I am now in quite another mess. Farewell, my Patty dear; I have no dying consolation, except when I am dead, you'll go and see the illumination. But Peter didn't die just then; fate was like him a jester: his Patty's head he changed to Stone, and he lived-to die at Chester.

(202.) THE ART OF PUFFING.

[Mr. Puff, is a man who has tried his hand at everything to get a living, and at last resorts to dramatic criticism. Mr. Sneer and Mr. Dangle have been invited to a rehearsal of Mr. Puff's tragedy of "The Spanish Armada."

Three speakers: DANGLE, PUFF, and SNEER.

Dan. Mr. Sneer, give me leave to introduce Mr. Puff to you. Puff. Mr. Sneer is this? (Crosses to centre.) Sir, he is a gentleman whom I have long panted for the honour of knowing—a gentleman whose critical talents and trandscendent judgment-

Sneer. Dear sir

Dan. Nay, don't be modest, Sneer, my friend Puff only talks to you in the style of his profession.

Sneer. His profession!

Puff. Yes, sir; I make no secret of the trade I follow. I am, sir, a practitioner in panegyric, or to speak more plainly-a professor of the art of puffing, at your service-or anybody else's. I dare say now you conceive half the very civil paragraphs and advertisements you see, to be written by the parties concerned, or their friends?— no such thing; nine out of ten manufactured by me.

Sneer. Indeed! But pray, Mr. Puff, what first put you on exercising your talents in this way?

Puff. Egad, sir, sheer necessity—the proper parent of an art so nearly allied to invention: you must know, Mr. Sneer, that from the first time I tried my hand at an advertisement my success was such that for some time after I led a most extraordinary life indeed! Sneer. How, pray?

Puff. Sir, I supported myself two years entirely by my misfortunes. Sneer. By your misfortunes!

Puff. Yes, sir, assisted by long sickness and other occasional disorders; and a very comfortable living I had of it.

Sneer. From sickness and misfortunes!—you practised as a doctor and attorney at once?

Puff. No, egad; both maladies and miseries were my own.
Sneer. Hey! what the plague!

Dan. 'Tis true, i'faith.

Puff. Harkee! by advertisements-"To the charitable and humane!" and "To those whom Providence hath blessed with affluence!"

Sneer. Oh! I understand you.

Puff. And, in truth, I deserved what I got; for I suppose never man went through such a series of calamities in the same space of time. Sir, I was five times made a bankrupt, and reduced from a state of affluence by a train of unavoidable misfortunes!-then, sir, though a very industrious tradesman, I was twice burned out, and lost my little all both times. I lived upon those fires a month. I soon after was confined by a most excruciating disorder, and lost the use of my limbs!-that told very well, for I had the case strongly attested, and went about to collect the subscriptions myself.

Dan. Egad, I believe that was when you first called on me. Puff. In November last? Oh, no! I was at that time a close prisoner for a debt benevolently contracted to serve a friend. I was afterwards twice tapped for a dropsy, which declined into a very