And e'en her natural tones contrived to smother;

At length he caught a glimpse, and-'twas his mother!

The rest is plain—she who had Frank decoy'd,
Was sister to this fortune-hunting swain:
Who had her fascinating arts employ'd,

To banish any scruples might remain,
Her son respecting, in the matron's mind,
By proving him to wedlock's joys inclined.

Now all you single gentlemen of forty,

Take warning by Frank Forethought's piteous case;
How happy I should this, my tale, have taught ye,
By his example to avoid disgrace.

Moist spring, and glowing summer, having past,
Do not in autumn catch love's plague at last.

THE DRUNKARD AND HIS WIFE.

LA FONTAINE

EACH one's his faults, to which he still holds fast, And neither shame nor fear can cure the man ; 'Tis apropros of this (my usual plan),

I give a story, for example, from the past.

A follower of Bacchus hurt his purse,

His health, his mind, and still grew each day worse;
Such people, ere they're run one-half their course,

Drain all their fortune for their mad expenses.
One day this fellow, by the wine o'erthrown,

Had in a bottle left his senses;

His shrewd wife shut him all alone

In a dark tomb, till the dull fume

Might from his brains evaporate.

He woke and found the place all gloom,
A shroud upon him cold and damp,
Upon the pall a funeral lamp.

"What's this?" said he, "my wife's a widow, then!"

On that the wife, dressed like a Fury, came.

Mask'd and with voice disguised, into the den,

And brought the wretched sot, in hopes to tame,
Some boiling gruel fit for Lucifer.

The sot no longer doubted he was dead

A citizen of Pluto's-could he err?

"And who are you? unto the ghost he said.

"I'm Satan's steward," said the wife," and serve the food
For those within this black and dismal place."
The sot replied, with comical grimace,

Not taking any time to think,

"And don't you also bring the drink?"

A WESTERN LAWYER'S PLEA AGAINST THE

FACT.

GENTLEMEN OF THE JURY:-The Scripture saith, “Thou shalt not kill;" now, if you hang my client, you transgress the command as slick as grease, and as plump as a goose egg in a loafer's face. Gentlemen, murder is murder, whether committed by twelve jurymen, or by a humble individual like my client. Gentlemen, I do not deny the fact of my client having killed a man, but is that any reason why you should do so? No such thing, gentlemen; you may bring the prisoner in "guilty;" the hangman may do his duty; but will that exonerate you? No such thing; in that case you will be murderers. Who among you is prepared for the brand of Cain to be stamped upon his brow to-day? Who, freemen-who in this land of liberty and light? Gentlemen, I will pledge my word, not one of you has a bowie-knife or a pistol in his pocket. No, gentlemen, your pockets are odoriferous with the perfumes of cigar cases and tobacco. You can smoke the pipe of a peaceful conscience; but hang my unfortunate client, and the scaly alligators of remorse will gallop through the internal principles of animal viscera, until the spinal vertebræ of your anatomical construction is turned into a railroad, for the grim and gory goblins of despair. Gentlemen, heware of committing murder! Be

ware, I say, of meddling with the eternal prerogative! Gentlemen, I adjure you, by the manumitted ghost of temporal sanctity, to do no murder. I adjure you, by the name of woman, the mainspring of the tickling timepiece of time's theoretical transmigration, to do no murder! I adjure you, by the love you have for the esculent and condimental gusto of our native pumpkin, to do no murder! I adjure you, by the stars set in the flying ensign of your emancipated coun try, to do no murder! I adjure you, by the American Eagle that whipped the universal game cock of creation, and now sits roosting on the magnetic telegraph of time's illustrious transmigration, do no murder! And lastly, gentlemen, if you ever expect to wear store-made coats-if you ever expect free dogs not to bark at you-if you ever expect to wear boots made of the free hide of the Rocky Mountain buffalo-and, to sum up all, if you ever expect to be anything but a set of sneaking, loafing, rascally, cut-throated, braided small ends of humanity, whittled down into indistinctibility, acquit my client, and save your country. The prisoner was acquitted.

READING A TRAGEDY.

BAYLY.

Он, proud am I, exceeding proud, I've mustered the Elite!
I'll read them my new Tragedy- -no ordinary treat;
It has a deeply-stirring plot-the moment I commence
They'll feel for my sweet heroine an interest intense;
It never lags, it never flags, it cannot fail to touch;
Indeed, I fear the sensitive may feel it over much;
But still a dash of pathos with my terrors I combine,
The bright reward of tragic bard-the laurel will be mine!

Place chairs for all the company, and, ma'am, I really think
If you don't send that child to bed, he will not sleep a wink;
I know he'll screech like anything before I've read a page ·
My second act would terrify a creature of that age;
And should the darling, scared by me, become an imbecile,
Though flatter'd at the circumstance-how sorry I should feal!

What! won't you send the child to bed? well, madam, we shall see; Pray take a chair, and now prepare the laurel crown for me.

Have all got pocket handkerchiefs? your tears will fall in streams: Place water near to sprinkle over any one who screams;

And pray, good people, recollect, when what I've said controls
Your sympathies, and actually harrows up your souls,
Remember (it may save you all from suicide or fits),

Tis but a mortal man who but opes the floodgates of his wits!
Retain your intellects to trace my brightest gem (my moral),
And, when I've done, I'm very sure you'll wreathe my brow with
laurel.

Hem-" Act the First, and Scene the First-A Wood-Bumrumpti

enters

Bumrumpti speaks,' And have I then escaped from my tormentors?
Revenge! revenge! oh, were they dead, and I a carrion crow,
I'd pick the flesh from off their bones, I'd sever toe from toe!
Shall fair Fryfitta, pledged to me, her plighted vow recall,
And wed with hated Snookums or with any man at all!
No-rather perish earth and sea, the sky and-all the rest of it-
For wife to me she swore she'd be, and she must make the best of it."

Through five long acts—ay, very long-the happy bard proceeds;
Without a pause, without applause, scene after scene he reads!
That silent homage glads his heart! it silent well may be ;
Not one of all his slumbering friends can either hear or see!
The anxious chaperon is asleep! the beau beside the fair!
The dog is sleeping on the rug! the cat upon the chair!
Old men and babes-the footman, too! oh, if we crown the bar
We'll twine for him the poppy wreath, his only fit reward.

CAST-OFF GARMENTS.
From "Nothing to Wear."

BUTLER.

WELL, having thus wooed Miss M'Flimsey and gained her,
With the silks, crinolines and hoops that contained her,

I had, as I thought, a contingent remainder

At least in the property, and the best right

To appear as its escort by day and by night:

And it being the week of the Stuckups' grand ball-
Their cards had been out for a fortnight or so,
And set the Avenue on the tiptoe-

I considered it only my duty to call,

And see if Miss Flora intended to go.
I found her-as ladies are apt to be found,
When the time intervening between the first sound
Of the bell and the visitor's entry is shorter
Than usual-I found; 1 won't say-I caught her-
Intent on the pier-glass, undoubtedly meaning
To see if perhaps it didn't need cleaning.

She turned as I entered-" Why, Harry, you sinner,
I thought that you went to the Flashers' to dinner!"
"So I did," I replied, "but the dinner is swallowed,

And digested, I trust, for 'tis now nine and more;
So being relieved from that duty, I followed

Inclination, which led me, you see, to your door.
And now will your ladyship so condescend
As just to inform me if you intend

Your beauty, and graces, and presence to lend

(All which, when I own, I hope no one will borrow),

To the Stuckups', whose party, you know, is to-morrow?

The fair Flora looked up with a pitiful air,

And answered quite promptly, "Why, Harry, mon cher,
I should like above all things to go with you there;
But really and truly-I've nothing to wear."
"Nothing to wear! go just as you are;

Wear the dress you have on, and you'll be by far,
I engage, the most bright and particular star

On the Stuckup horizon "-I stopped, for her eye,
Notwithstanding this delicate onset of flattery,
Opened on me at once a most terrible battery

Of scorn and amazement. She made no reply, But gave a slight turn to the end of her nose

(That pure Grecian feature), as much as to say, "How absurd that any sane man should suppose That a lady would go to a ball in the clothes,

No matter how fine, that she wears every day!"