His brow was black, his eye beneath
Shone like a wrathful bull-dog's teeth;
And still amid the darkness rung
The accents of his well-known tongue;
"Your name and college!"

"Try not the High," the porter said,
"Dark lowers the proctor, bull-dog led."
But forth in "loud" illegal dress
The youth went, crying "Let him guess
My name and college!"

(Half-an-hour elapses.)

"O stay." his comrade said, "and rest
Thy wearied limbs and panting chest!"
To gain their wind the fliers try,
When lo a figure gliding nigh,

Cries," Name and college!"

"Beware the proctor's sacred paunch,
Beware the rushing bull-dog's launch!"
This was the porter's last good-night;
A voice replied, "It serves me right
For cutting college!"

Next morn, as tolled the stroke of nine,
Two youths, in dread of penal fine,
Slunk silent through the awful gate,
And "hoped they were not much too late,
They'd run from college!"

There, like a mouse awaiting cat,
Awful and calm the proctor sat ;

And, like a death-knell booming far,

A voice fell stern: "This week you are
Confined to college!"

"Young man," the Sage observ'd, "just stay,
And let me dip my beak, I say,
The pewter is deep, and I am dry!"
"Perceiv'st thou verdure in my eye?
XX-oh lor !"

"Oh stop," the maiden cried, "and lend
Thy beery burden here, my friend-'
Th' unbidden tear regretful rose,
But still his thumb-tip sought his nose;

"CLEAN YOUR DOOR-STEP, MARM?"
The shades of night were some time past,
And snow had fallen thick and fast;
A youth, who broom and shovel bore,
Was heard to call outside the door,

"Clean your doorstep, Marm ?"

In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright,
The singing kettle brightly shone—
Again, again, his well-known tone-

This ingenious but rather mad parody appeared

His brow was black, his eye beneath
Shone like a wrathful bull-dog's teeth;
And still amid the darkness rung
The accents of his well-known tongue;
"Your name and college!"

"Try not the High," the porter said,
"Dark lowers the proctor, bull-dog led.”
But forth in "loud" illegal dress

The youth went, crying

Let him guess

My name and college!"

(Half-an-hour elapses.)

"O stay," his comrade said, "and rest
Thy wearied limbs and panting chest!"
To gain their wind the fliers try,
When lo a figure gliding nigh,

Cries," Name and college!"

"Beware the proctor's sacred paunch,
Beware the rushing bull-dog's launch!"
This was the porter's last good-night;
A voice replied, "It serves me right
For cutting college!'

Next morn, as tolled the stroke of nine,
Two youths, in dread of penal fine,
Slunk silent through the awful gate,
And "hoped they were not much too late,
They'd run from college!"

There, like a mouse awaiting cat,
Awful and calm the proctor sat;

And, like a death-knell booming far,

A voice fell stern: "This week you are
Confined to college!"

EXEXOLOR.

College Rhymes, 1863.

The shades of night had fallen (at last!)
When from the Eagle Tavern pass'd
A youth, who bore, in manual vice,
A pot of something monstrous nice-
XX-oh lor!

His brow was bad-his young eye scann'd
The frothing flagon in his hand,
And like a gurgling streamlet sprung
The accents to that thirsty tongue,
XX-oh lor!

In happy homes he saw them grub
On stout, and oysters from a tub,-
The dismal gas-light gleamed without,
And from his lips escaped a shout,
66 'XX-oh lor!"

"Young man," the Sage observ'd, "just stay,
And let me dip my beak, I say,
The pewter is deep, and I am dry!"
"Perceiv'st thou verdure in my eye?
XX-oh lor !"

"Oh stop," the maiden cried, "and lend
Thy beery burden here, my friend—”
Th' unbidden tear regretful rose,
But still his thumb-tip sought his nose;

"CLEAN YOUR DOOR-STEP, MARM?"
The shades of night were some time past,
And snow had fallen thick and fast;
A youth, who broom and shovel bore,
Was heard to call outside the door,

"Clean your doorstep, Marm ?"

In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright,
The singing kettle brightly shone-
Again, again, his well-known tone-

This ingenious but rather mad parody appeared

THOSE HORRID SCHOOLS.

I.

THE shades of night were falling fast,
As through the quad a gownsman passed,
Whose seedy look and sunken cheek
Bespoke as plain as words could speak,
Those horrid schools!"

II.

His coat was worn; his bags beneath
Were quite too short his legs to sheath,
While like a penny trumpet rung
The treble of that mournful tongue,

"Those horrid schools!"

III.

In happy homes he left the light

Of household fires both warm and bright; Before the spectral "Great Go" shone, And from his lips escaped a groan,

"Those horrid schools!"

IV.

"Try but to pass," his tutor said,
"A class is not within your head.
The yawning gulf is deep and wide!"
But still that treble voice replied,

"Those horrid schools!"

v.

"Oh stay!" the maiden said, "and rest Thy learned head upon my breast!" A tear stood in his sunken eye,

He blushed, and answered, looking shy, "Those horrid schools

THAT THIRTY-FOUR.

(The following parody was selected for a prize in a competition, by the editor of Truth, and appeared in that paper on November 25th, 1880. It refers to the American puzzle, called "Thirtyfour," which was then very popular).

Chill August's storms were piping loud,
When through a gaping London crowd,
There passed a youth, who still was heard
To mutter the perplexing word,
"That Thirty-four!”

His eyes were wild; his brow above
Was crumpled like an old kid glove;
And like some hoarse crow's grating note
That word still quivered in his throat,
That Thirty-four !"

66

'Oh, give it up!" his comrades said, "It only muddles your poor head; It is not worth your finding out." He answered with a wailing shout, "That Thirty-four !"

"Art not content," the maiden said,
"To solve the 'Fifteen' one instead?"
He paused-his tearful eyes he dried--
Gulped down a sob, then sadly sighed,
"That Thirty-four!"

At midnight, on their high resort,
The cats were startled at their sport,
To hear, beneath one roof, a tone
Gasp out, betwixt a snore and groan,
"That Thirty-four!"

VI.

"Beware tobacco's withered plant!
Beware of vinous stimulant !"

This was the gov'nor's last good-bye,
A voice replied, from out the fly,

"Those horrid schools !"

VII.

At break of day, as through the gloom
The scout when going from room to room,
Uttered the oft repeated call,

A voice came from the bedroom small,
"Those horrid schools!"

VIII.

The poor young sap asleep quite sound,
Half buried in the sheets was found,
Still grasping, nibbled by the mice,
An Ethics with the strange device,

"Those horrid schools!"

IX.

There in the twilight, cold and grey,

Dirty, unwashen, there he lay,

While from his scout the sentence flowed,

"Oh drat those books-them schools be blowed,

Them 'orrid schools !"

TOBACCO SMOKE!
THE clouds of smoke were rising fast,
As through a college room there passed
A youth who bore, 'spite sage advice,
A baccy "-pouch with strange device,
"Tobacco smoke !"

His brow was sad ; his eye beneath
Stared on a pipe, laid in its sheath,
And in his ears there ever rung
The accents of the donor's tongue,
"Tobacco smoke!"

"Try not the shag!" the old man said,
It is o'er strong for thy young head,
Dire its effects to those untried ;"
Heedless he was, and but replied,

"Tobacco smoke !" "Oh, stay," the maiden said, "and test Our Latakia-'tis the best!" He grasped his packet of birds'-eye, And only muttered with a sigh,

"Tobacco smoke!" "Beware; don't set your room alightThe college might object-good-night!" Such were the words the scholar spoke, And scarcely heard through closing oak, "Tobacco smoke!"