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* Of rain and hail, of frost and snow, And all the winds and storms that blow; Besides an hundred wonders more, Of which we never heard before. But now, dear Doctor, not to flatter, There is a most important matter, A matter which you never touch on, A matter which our thoughts run much on, A subject, if we right conjecture, Which well deserves a long, long lecture, Which all the ladies would approve— The Natural History of Love. Oh! list to our united voice, Deny us not, dear Dr. Moyes; Tell us why our poor tender hearts So willingly admit Love's darts? Teach us the marks of love's beginning, What is it makes a beau so winning? What is it makes a coxcomb witty, A dotard wise, a red coat pretty 2 Why we believe such horrid lies, That we are angels from the skies, Our teeth are pearl, our cheeks are roses, Our eyes are stars—such charming noses' Explain our dreams waking and sleeping, Explain our laughing and our weeping, Explain our hoping and our doubting, Our blushing, simpering, and pouting. Teach us all the enchanting arts Of winning and of keeping hearts. Teach us, dear Doctor, if you can, To humble that proud creature man ; To turn the wise ones into fools, The proud and insolent to tools; To make them all run helter-skelter Their necks into the marriage-halter; Then leave us to ourselves with these, We'll rule and turn them as we please. Dear Doctor, if you grant our wishes, We promise you five hundred kisses; And rather than the affair be blunder'd We'll give you six score to the hundred.
Approved by 300 Ladies, 1807. LORD BYRON'S REPLY.
[The following are Lord Byron's own words in ref. erence to the preceding composition:—“This petition, a sprightly little poem, was put into my hands by a lady for whom I entertain a very great respect, accompanied by a wish that I would reply in the Doctor's name. Though by no means adequate to the task, I have endeavoured, in the following lines, to give such answers to the questions as my own trifling experience suggested, more from my dislike to refuse any request of a female than the most distant hope of affording a perspicuous or satisfactory solution of the different queries.— March, 1807."]
In all the arts, without exception,
From morbid symptoms diagnostic
+ - + + +
'Tis known by men of nice precision,
And put ap end to fits of pouting.
[FREDER1ck S. Cozzens, 1818–69; born in N. Y.; in early life a wine-merchant, and editor of the Wine Press, for which he wrote papers on the culture of the grape and the manufacture of wine. This led him to more popular authorship, and he contributed to Magazines. His first volume was Prismatics, by Richard Haywarde. Then came the Sparrowgrass Papers, his best effort. Afterwards he published Acadia, or a sojourn among the Blue Noses; and a Memorial of Fitz-Greene Halleck. One of his latest and best works is Sayings, Wise and Otherwise.]
WE have put a dumb-waiter in our house. A dumb-waiter is a good thing to have in the country, on account of its convenience. If you have company, every thing can be sent up from the kitchen without any trouble; and if the baby gets to be unbearable, on account of his teeth, you can dismiss the complainant by stuffing him into one of the
shelves, and letting him down upon the
help. #. provide for contingencies, we had all our floors deafened. In consequence, you cannot hear o that is going on in the story below; and when you are in an upper room of the house, there might be a democratic ratification-meeting in the cellar, and you would not know it. Therefore, if any one should break into the basement, it would not disturb us; but to please Mrs. Sparrowrass, I put stout iron bars on all the ower windows. Besides, Mrs. Sparrowtrass had bought a rattle when she was in °hiladelphia; such a rattle as watchmen carry there. This is to alarm our neighbor, who, upon the signal, is to come to the rescue with his revolver. He is a rash man, prone to pull trigger first, and make inquiries afterward. One evening Mrs. S. had retired, and I was busy writing, when it struck me a lass of ice-water would be palatable. So #'. the candle and a pitcher, and went down to the pump. Our pump is in the kitchen. A country pump in the kitchen is more convenient; but a well with buckets is certainly most picturesque. Unfortunately our well-water has not been sweet since it was cleaned out. First, I had to open a bolted door that lets you into the basement hall, and then I went to the kitchen door, which proved to be locked. Then I remembered that our girl always, carried the key to bed with her, and slept with it under her illow. Then I retraced my steps; |. the basement door, and went up into the dining-room. As is always the case, I found, when I could not get an water I was thirstier than I supposed was. Then I thought I would wake our girl up. Then I concluded not to do it. #." thought of the well, but I gave that up on account of its flavor. Then I opened the closet doors: there was no water there; and then I thought of the dumb-waiter! The novelty of the idea made me smile; I took out two of the movable shelves, stood the pitcher on the bottom of the dumb-waiter, got in myself with the lamp; let myself ão until I supposed I was within a foot of the floor below, and then let go. We came down so suddenly that I was shot out of the apparatus as if it had been a catapult; it broke the pitcher, extinguished the lamp, and landed me in the middle of the kitchen at midnight, with no fire, and the air not much above the zero point. The truth is, I had miscalculated the distance of the descent-instead of falling one foot, I had fallen five. M first impulse was, to ascend by the way came down, but I found that impracticable. Then I tried the kitchen door: it was locked. I tried to force it open; it was made of two-inch stuff, and held its own. Then I hoisted a window, and there were the rigid iron bars. If I ever felt angry at o it was at myself, for putting up those bars to please Mrs. Sparrowgrass. I put them up, not to keep people in, but to keep people out. I laid my cheek against the ice-cold barriers, and looked at the sky; not a star was visible; it was as black as ink overhead. Then I thought of Baron Trenck and the prisoner of Chillon. Then I made a noise! I shouted until I was hoarse, and ruined our preserving-kettle with the poker. That brought our do out in full bark, and between us we made the night hideous. ... Then I thought I heard a voice, and listened : it was Mrs. Sparrowgrass calling to me from the top j the stair-case. § tried to make her hear me, but the infernal dogs united with howl, and growl, and bark, so as to drown my voice, which is naturally plaintive and tender. Besides, there were two bolted doors and double-deafened floors between us. How could she recognize my voice, even if she did hear it? Mrs. Sparrowgrass called once or twice, and then got frightened ; the next thin I heard was a sound as if the roof ha fallen in, by which I understood that Mrs. Sparrowgrass was springing the rattle ! That called out our neighbor, alread wide awake; he came to the rescue wit a bull-terrier, a Newfoundland pup, a lantern, and a revolver. The moment he saw me at the window, he shot at me, but fortunately just missed me. I threw myself under the kitchen table, and ventured to expostulate with him, but he would not listen to reason. In the excitement I had forgotten his name, and that made matters worse. It was not until he had roused up everybody around, broken in the basement door with an axe, gotten into the kitchen with his cursed savage dogs and shooting-iron, and seized me by the collar, that he recognized me, and
then he wanted me to explain it! But what kind of an explanation could I make to him 2 I told him he would have to wait until o mind was composed, and then I would let him understand the matter fully. But he never would have had the particulars from me, for I do not ap|. of neighbors that shoot at you, reak in your door, and treat you in your own house as if you W. He knows all about it, however, somebody has told him—somebody tells everybody every thing in our village.
TEN JESTS OF HIEROCLES.
[HIERocles, “The New Platonist," flourished in Alexandria about the middle of the fifth century.]
1. A YOUNG man, meeting an acquaintance, said, “I heard that you were dead.” “But,” says the other, “you see me alive.” “I do not know how that may be,” relied he: “you are a notorious liar; my informant was a person of credit.” 2. A man wrote to a friend in Greece, begging him to purchase books. From negligence or avarice, he neglected to execute the commission; but, fearing that his correspondent might be offended, he exclaimed, when next they met, “My dear friend, I never got the letter you wrote to me about the books.” 3. A robust countryman, meeting a F. ran to hide behind a wall: eing asked the cause, he replied, “It is so long since I have been sick, that I am ashamed to look a physician in the face.” 4. A man, hearing that a raven would live two hundred years, bought one to try. 5. A foolish fellow, having a house to sell, took a brick from the wall to exhibit as a sample. 6. A man, meeting a friend, said, “I spoke to you last night in a dream.” “Pardon me,” replied the other; “I did not hear you.” 7. A man that had nearly been drowned while bathing, declared that he would never enter the water again till he had learned to swim. 8. During a storm, the passengers on board a vessel that appeared in danger, seized different implements to aid them in swimming, and one of the number selected for this purpose the anchor. 9. A wittol, a barber, and a bald-headed man travelled together. Losing their way, they were forced to sleep in the open air; and, to avert danger, it was agreed to keep watch by turns. The lot fell first on the barber, who, for amusement, shaved the fool's head while he slept; he then woke him, and the fool, raising his hand to scratch his head, exclaimed, “Here's a pretty mistakes Rascal, you have waked the bald-headed man instead of me.” 10. A gentleman had a cask of fine wine, from which his servant stole a large uantity. When the master perceived the eficiency, he diligently inspected the top of the cask, but could find no traces of an opening. “Look if there be not a hole in the bottom,” said a bystander. “Blockhead,” he replied, “do you not see that the deficiency is at the top, and not at the bottom ?”
If brevity is the soul of wit, Talleyrand was the greatest of wits. A single word was often sufficient for his keenest retort. When a hypochondriac, who had notoriously led a profligate life, complained to the diplomatist that he was enduring the torments of hell,—“Je sens les tourmens de l'enfer,”—the answer was, “Déjà f" (Already ?) To a lady who had lost her husband, Talleyrand once addressed a letter of condolence in two words:—“O, Madame!”. In less than a year the lady had married again; and then his letter of congratulation was, “Ah, Madame!” Could anything be more wittily significant than the “O'” and the “Ah” of this sententious correspondence?
Prince Metternich once requested the autograph of Jules, Janin. The witty journalist sent him the following:— “I acknowledge the receipt from M. de Metternich of twenty bottles of Johannisberg, for which I return infinite thanks. JULES JANIN.” The prince, in return, doubled the quantity, and sent him forty bottles. This is equal to the joke of Rochester, on the occasion of Charles II.'s crew of rakes writing pieces of poetry and handing them to Dryden, so that he might decide which was the prettiest poet. Rochester finished his piece in a few minutes, and Dryden ...! that it was the best. On reading it, the lines were found to be the following:— “I promise to pay, to the order of John Dryden, twenty pounds,-RoCHESTER.”
The best of husbands and the best of men; And I can find no words,-in vain my pen, Though dipped in briny tears, would fain portray, In lively colors, all the young wife felt, As o'er his couch in agony she knelt, And clasped the hand, and kissed the cheek of clay. The priest, whose business 't was to soothe her, came ; All friendship came, in vain; The more they soothed, the more Dorinda cried. They had to drag her from the dead one's side. A ceaseless wringing of the hands Was all she did; one piteous “Alas!” The only sound that from her lips did pass; Full four-and-twenty hours thus she lay. Meanwhile, a neighbor o'er the way Had happened in, well skilled in carving wood. He saw Dorinda's melancholy mood, And, partly at her own request, Partly to show his reverence for the blest, And save his memory from untimely end, Resolved to carve in wood an image of his friend. Success the artist's cunning hand attended; With most amazing speed the work was ended ; And there stood Stephen large as life. A masterpiece soon makes its way to light; The folk ran up and screamed, so soon as Stephen met their sight, “Ah, Heavens ! Ah, there he is Yes, yes, 'tis he O happy artists happy wife Look at the laughing features l Only see The open mouth, that seems as if 'twould speak | WOL. III.-W. H.
I never saw before, in all my life, Such nature, no, I vow, there could not be A truer likeness; so he looked to me, When he stood godfather last week.”
They brought the wooden spouse, That now alone the widow's heart could
Up to the second story of the house, Where he and she had slept one blessed year. There in her chamber, having turned the
key, She shut herself with him, and sought relief And comfort in the midst of bitter grief, And held herself as bound, if she would be Forever worthy of his memory, To weep away the remnant of her life. What more could one desire of a wife? So sat Dorinda many weeks, heart-broken, And had not, my informant said, In all that time, to living creature spoker, Except her house-dog and her serving maid, And this, after so many weeks of woe, Wes the first day that she had dared to glance Out of her window: and to-day, by chance, Just as she looked, a stranger stood below. Up in a twinkling came the house-maid running, And said, with look of sweetest, half hid cunning, “Madam, a gentleman would speak to you, A lovely gentleman as one would wish to view, Almost as lovely as your blessed one; He has some business with you must be
done,— Business, he said, he could not trust with me.” “Must just make up some story, then,” said she, “I cannot leave, one moment, my dear man ; In short, go down and do the best you