say? O, the nevey?

"Make haste! make haste!" says guzzling Jimmy, While Jack pulled out his snickersnee.

Billy went up to the main-top-gallant mast,
And down he fell on his bended knee,
He scarce had come to the Twelfth Commandment
When up he jumps-"There's land I see !"
"Jerusalem and Madagascar

And North and South Amerikee,
There's the British flag a riding at anchor,
With Admiral Napier, K. C. B."

So when they got aboard of the Admiral's,
He hanged fat Jack and flogged Jimmee,
But as for little Bill he made him
The Captain of a Seventy-three.

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.

back to deny it.

Ye see the derned fool had no seat,

have made him a rider;

FRANCIS BRET HARTE.

LITTLE BILLEE.

THERE were three sailors of Bristol City
Who took a boat and went to sea,
But first with beef and captain's biscuits
And pickled pork they loaded she.

There was gorging Jack, and guzzling Jimmy,
And the youngest he was little Billee;
Now when they'd got as far as the Equator
They'd nothing left but one split pea.

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, "I am extremely hungaree." To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy, "We've nothing left, us must eat we."

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy,

"With one another we should n't agree! There's little Bill, he 's young and tender, We're old and tough, so let's eat he."

"O Billy! we're going to kill and eat you,
So undo the button of your chemie."
When Bill received this information,
He used his pocket-handkerchie.

has its full, The glorious deed so lately done, the taking of Sebastopol;

That is, they would have taken it, as such was their intention, yet

They have n't, so this latest joke I hope you will not mention yet.

Bosh, bosh, bosh! All the wires are telegraphing bosh, bosh, bosh.

With fifty thousand men, and more, and cannon primed and loaded, sirs, They smashed and crashed each standing stone, and all the Russians goaded, sirs; That is, they would have done that same, and left them not a jot at all,

But it happened neither guns nor men were ever near the spot at all.

Bosh, bosh, bosh.

That is,

Keclined in the gutter we found him;

Bosh, bosh, bosh.

With his Marshall cloak around him.

"The Doctor's as drunk as the d-," we said, And we managed a shutter to borrow; We raised him, and sighed at the thought that his head

Would "consumedly ache" on the morrow.

We bore him home, and we put him to bed,
And we told his wife and his daughter
To give him, next morning, a couple of red
Herrings, with soda-water.

Loudly they talked of his money that 's gone,
And his Lady began to upbraid him ;
But little he recked, so they let him snore on
'Neath the counterpane just as we laid him.

We tucked him in, and had hardly done

When, beneath the window calling, We heard the rough voice of a son of a gun Of a watchman "One o'clock !" bawling.

Slowly and sadly we all walked down

From his room in the uppermost story; A rushlight we placed on the cold hearthstone, And we left him alone in his glory!

RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM (THOMAS INGOLDSBY.)

PERILS OF THE PAVE.

JUMPING Over gutters,

Wading through the flood, Ploughing through the slush, Tumbling in the mud, Squatting in the puddles, Bless me! this is nice, Slopping through the water, Slipping on the ice.

Men of every class,

In such falling weather, Find it very easy, Tumbling down together. Pillars of the church, Servants of the devil, Here they very quickly

Find a common level.

Very sharp young fellow Makes a perfect flat, Rusty, fusty bachelor Tumbles on his hat.

But sickness and affliction

Are sent by a wise creation,
And always ought to be underwent
By patience and resignation.

O, I could to your bedside fly,

And wipe your weeping eyes,
And do my best to cure you up,
If 't would n't create surprise.
It's a world of trouble we tarry in,
But, Elder, don't despair;
That you may soon be movin' again
Is constantly my prayer.

Both sick and well, you may depend
You'll never be forgot

By your faithful and affectionate friend,
PRISCILLA POOL BEDOTT.

FRANCES MIRIAM WHITCHER.

DEBORAH LEE.

PARODY.

"T is a dozen or so of years ago,

Somewhere in the West countree,

That a nice girl lived, as ye Hoosiers know

By the name of Deborah Lee;