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Most distinctly I remember, it was just about December-
Though it might have been in August, or it might have been

before

Dreadfully I fear'd the morrow. Vainly had I sought to borrow, For (I own it to my sorrow) I was miserably poor.

And the heart is heavy laden when one's miserably poor;
(I have been so once before).

I was doubtful and uncertain, at the rising of the curtain,
If the piece would prove a novelty, or one I'd seen before;
For a band of robbers drinking in a gloomy cave, and clinking
With their glasses on the table, I had witness'd o'er and o'er,
Since the half-forgotten period of my innocence was o’er;

Twenty years ago or more.

Presently my doubt grew stronger. I could stand the thing no longer;

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"Miss," said I, or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; Pardon my apparent rudeness. Would you kindly have the goodness

To inform me if the drama is from Gaul's enlightened shore? For I knew that plays are often brought us from the Gallic shore;

Adaptations-nothing more.

So I put the question lowly; and my neighbour answered slowly-
"It's a British drama wholly, written quite in days of yore;
'Tis an Andalusian story of a castle old and hoary,

And the music is delicious, though the dialogue is poor!"
(And I could not help agreeing that the dialogue was poor;
Very flat and nothing more.)

But at last a lady entered, and my interest grew centr'd
In her figure and her features, and the costume that she wore.
And the slightest sound she utter'd was like music; so I mutter'd
To my neighbour, "Glance a minute at your play-bill, I implore.
Who's that rare and radiant maiden? Tell, oh, tell me, I im-
plore."

Quoth my neighbour, "Nelly Moore ! "

Then I ask'd in quite a tremble-it was useless to dissemble66 Miss, or madam, do not trifle with my feelings any more; Tell me who, then, was the maiden that appeared so sorrowladen

In the room of David Garrick, with a bust above the door ? " (With a bust of Julius Cæsar up above the study floor.) Quoth my neighbour, "Nelly Moore!"

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I've her photograph from Lacy's, that delicious little face is
Smiling on me as I'm sitting (in a draught from yonder door),

And often in the nightfalls, when a precious little light falls
From the wretched tallow-candles on my gloomy second floor
(For I have not got the gas-light on my gloomy second floor.)
Comes an echo, "Nelly Moore!"

(From "Carols of Cockayne," by permission of Messrs. Chatto & Windus.)

THE JABBERWOCKY.

LEWIS CARROLL.

[The author of " Alice in Wonderland," "Through the Looking-Glass," and "The Hunting of the Snark," made his reputation in the world of letters by, perhaps, the most charming works for children embodying both fancy and humour, without any of that imbecility which is usually apparent in books of this description. As a writer of a peculiarly delicate and rhythmical verse, he can hold his own with the best of his contemporaries.]

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch?
Beware the Jubjub bird,

And shun the frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought-
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two, and through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves,
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

(By permission of the Author.)

THE HUMOROUS QUACK.

LEOPOLD WAGNER.

IF the veracity of our informant is to be relied upon, a certain class of our latter-day itinerants must be regarded as purveyors of wit as well as of medicine. The following is said to have been overheard on a recent evening within a stone's-throw of the Borough side of London Bridge:

Ladies and Gentlemen,-Gather round the establishment of Professor Passeymaquody, Physician in Ordinary to the Emperor of Wankeywollop, and all the Crowned Heads of Europe. (Stand on one side, you youngsters, if you please, and run away home to tell your mothers the professor is now on view, and if they have got any complaints, let them come and lay them before me.) Ladies and gentlemen, of every description and of both sexes,-If there are any among you afflicted with the ills of life which flesh is heir to-whether rheumatism, sciatica, consumption, liver complaint, heartburn, sea-sickness, or impecuniosity; whether inflammation of the lungs, concentralization of the nose, acclimization of the spinal marrow, or a want of vitality in the vegetable marrow; gravel, stone, or asphalte, fits and starts and feeling anyhow, an attack of the blues, whether male or female-in short, for every complaint under the sun, whether known or unknown, mortal or immortal, curable or incurable, I invite you to pay heed to some of the most wonderful cures which have been effected by my Oriental Restorative Medicines. Here is a bottle which I hold up for your inspection. I shall, however, not allow this bottle to be sold until I have explained its peculiar virtues and the ingredients of which it is composed. My medicines, ladies and gentlemen, are compounded out of the finest roots, herbs, and barks throughout the vegetable kingdom, and as gathered by my numerous assistants in every part of the habitable globe. The chief ingredients of this bottle are as follows: Fig leaves from the giant trees of California, dandelion from Epping Forest, Turkey rhubarb from Asia Minor, balsam from the gum-trees of Arabia, cod-liver oil from Billingsgate, quinine from Canada, elder flowers from South Africa, phosphorus from the Desert of Sahara, palm twigs from Palestine, burnt sienna from Primrose Hill, rock rose and stinging-nettle from Clapham Common, and a hundred other active medicinal virtues from both hemispheres, all powdered up together in a very concentrated form. Every year, ladies and gentlemen, I spend fifteen months abroad in personally superintending the preparation of my wonderful medicines; and if you were to ask me what they are good for, I would tell you that they are good for everything. They will make the blind to walk, the lame to hear, and the deaf to speak. They will even bring the dead to life again, provided there's some breath left in the body, and none of the parts missing. I therefore hold up this bottle for your inspection; but I will not even tell you the price of it until I have read to you a few choice testimonials as follows: "Dear sir,-I had my head smashed

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with a quart pot; cured with one bottle." "I had the buffer of a railway carriage run into my stomach; it had to be extracted by means of a steam crane; cured with one bottle." "I had my right arm crushed in my mother's wringing machine; but after a regular dose of your medicine for breakfast every morning, my arm was completely restored." "I was tickled to death with a flea-bite; but three doses of your medicine completely brought me to." “I was jammed into a pancake between two fat women in a crowd. They carried me to the nearest apothecary's, where they administered your medicine, and now I'm as round as a bullet." "I was knocked down and trampled upon by the mob in Piccadilly; cured with half a bottle. Your excellent medicine, however, failed to restore my watch and chain." "Dear sir,-Happening to take a walk down Westminster during the recent dynamite explosions, I was blown into ten thousand fragments. My head was picked up in St. James's Park, one of my legs found its way down to Woolwich, my left arm dropped on to Highgate Archway, and my body, in descending, blocked up the funnel of a penny steamer as it was passing under Waterloo Bridge. I was taken to the hospital unconscious, and discharged as incurable. There I was recommended to take your medicine, and now I'm as well as ever I was." Ladies and gentlemen, having now read to you five hundred testimonials of the most questionable character, I shall keep you in suspense no longer, but proceed to inform you that the price of my medicine, Government stamp and income-tax included, is only five shillings per bottle; and I not only charge you nothing for the bottle, but I present you also with a concise history of my own life and extraordinary career abroad, as reprinted by permission. In conclusion, I would beg you not to neglect this golden opportunity of purchasing my medicines. I attend all the important races, fairs, and markets, not forgetting the Whitechapel pavement. But to-day, being my birthday, it is only by an extraordinary freak of nature that I am here at all. I can, therefore, do no more than exhort you to consult your own welfare, and to take care of your feeble health, feeling sure that, if you should go home to-night and die before the morning, you would be blaming yourselves for ever afterwards for not having purchased my Oriental Restorative Medicines!

(Copyright of the Author.)

NELLY GRAY.

THOMAS HOOD.

[See page 431.]

BEN BATTLE was a soldier bold,
And used to war's alarms;
But a cannon-ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms!

Now as they bore him off the field,
Said he, "Let others shoot,
For here I leave my second leg,
And the Forty-second Foot!"
Now Ben he loved a pretty maid,
Her name was Nelly Gray,
So he went to pay her his devours,
When he devoured his pay.

But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off!

"Oh! Nelly Gray; oh! Nelly Gray,
Is this your love so warm?
The love that loves a scarlet coat
Should be more uniform."

Said she, "I loved a soldier once,
For he was blythe and brave;
But I will never have a man

With both legs in the grave!

"Before you had those timber toes,
Your love I did allow;

But then, you know, you stand upon
Another footing now!"

"Oh! Nelly Gray; oh! Nelly Gray,

For all your jeering speeches,

At duty's call I left my legs

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In Badajos's breaches!"

Why, then," said she, "you've lost the feet

Of legs in war's alarms,

And now you cannot wear your shoes

Upon your feats of arms.'

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"Oh! false and fickle Nelly Gray,

I know why you refuse;

Though I've no feet-some other man
Is standing in my shoes.

“I wish I neʼer had seen your face,
But now, a long farewell!

For

you will be my death; alas! You will not be my Nell!"

Now, when he went from Nelly Gray,
His heart so heavy got,

And life was such a burden grown,
It made him take a knot.

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