"The next lot fell to the 'Nancy's' mate,
And a delicate dish he made;

Then our appetite, with the midshipmite,
We seven survivors, stayed.

"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight,
And he much resembled pig;

Then we wittled free, did the cook and me,
On the crew of the captain's gig.

"Then only the cook and me was left,
And the delicate question, Which
Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose,
And we argued it out as sich.

"For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,
And the cook he worshiped me;

But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed

In the other chap's hold, you see.

"I'll be eat if you dine off me,' says Tom.

Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be.

I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I;

And, Exactly so,' quoth he.

"Says he, 'Dear James, to murder me
Were a foolish thing to do,

For don't you see that you can't cook me,
While I can and will-cook you?'

"So he boils the water, and he takes the salt And pepper in portions true,

(Which he never forgot,) and some chopped shalot,

And some sage and parsley, too.

"Come here,' says he, with a proper pride,

Which his smiling features tell;

"Twill soothing be, if I let you see

How extremely nice you'll smell.'

"And he stirred it round, and round, and round, And he sniffed at the foaming froth;

ups with his heels, and I smothered

When I
his squeals

In the scum of the boiling broth.

"And I eat that cook in a week or less,

And as I eating be

The last of his chops, why I almost drops,
For a wessel in sight I see.

"And I never laugh, and I never smile,
And I never lark nor play;

But I sit and croak, and a single joke
I have-which is to say:

"O, I am a cook and a captain bold,
And the mate of the 'Nancy' brig,
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,
And the crew of the captain's gig!"

I

W. S. GILBERT,

OLD AND BLIND.

AM old and blind!

Men point at me as smitten by God's frown; Afflicted and deserted of my kind;

Yet I am not cast down.

I am weak, yet strong;

I murmur not that I no longer see;

Poor, old, and helpless, I the more belong,
Father Supreme, to Thee.

O Merciful One!

When men are farthest, then Thou art most near; When friends pass by me, and my weakness shun, Thy chariot I hear.

Thy glorious face

Is leaning toward me; and its holy light
Shines in upon my lonely dwelling place—
And there is no more night.

I recognize Thy purpose clearly shown:
My vision thou hast dimmed, that I may see
Thyself Thyself alone.

I have naught to fear:

This darkness is the shadow of Thy wing;
Beneath it I am almost sacred; here

Can come no evil thing.

Oh! I seem to stand

Trembling where foot of mortal ne'er hath been, Wrapped in the radiance of Thy sinless land, Which eye hath never seen.

Visions come and go;

Shapes of resplendent beauty round me throng; From angel lips I seem to hear the flow

Of soft and holy song.

Is it nothing now,

When Heaven is opening on my sightless eyes?
When airs from Paradise refresh my brow,
The earth in darkness lies.

In a purer clime

My being fills with rapture-waves of thought
Roll in upon my spirit-strains sublime
Break over me unsought.

Give me now my lyre!

I feel the stirrings of a gift divine.
Within my bosom glows unearthly fire,
Lit by no skill of mine.-MILTON.

ROBINSON CRUSOE IN VERSE.

ROBINSON CRUSOE went to

sea,

To make a voyage out to Guinea;

But a storm his vessel drove to land,

And grounded it upon the sand.

And the wind, it blew and blew and blew so-
The wind, it blew and blew and blew so-
And the wind, it blew and blew and blew so,
The ship was wrecked with Robinson Crusoe.

The crew in a boat made for the shore,
Crusoe himself and ten men more;
But the boat capsized, and all the men
Were emptied into the sea again.
He swam, and told the others to do so-
Swam, and told the others to do so-
He swam, and told the others to do so;
But none were saved save Robinson Crusoe.

So after eight and twenty years
Of solitude's toils, joys, and fears,
Another ship that way was cast,
In which he found escape at last.
Thus all its ties were, in his view, so-
All its ties were, in his view, so—
Thus all its ties were, in his view, so
Little prized by Robinson Crusoe.

J. A. BROWN.

A DUTCHMAN'S SPEECH AT AN INSTITUTE.

S'

IR EDWARD TEMPLEROW, with whom Steven Von Brammelendam was staying for a couple of days, was Chairman of the "Society for Training School Teachers." Of course, he invited him to attend the meeting of the Society. As Steven took a lively interest in everything connected with schools, the invitation was very welcome to him. He even promised to give an address: and, to be able to do so, kept his room all day to write his speech. At half-past seven, Sir Edward came to tell him that the gig was at the door. Steven had never heard the word "gig" before, but he guessed it must be a conveyance. He got a place by Sir Edward's side, on the platform; and after some business was gone through, "the friend from Holland" was summoned to address the meeting.

"Dear friends," he said, "when I rode through the streets in the wig of your chairman-"

Poor Steven! He could not proceed. An uproarious burst of laughter drowned his voice. He took it with the best possible humor, though, and patiently waited