Oh, 'twas very sad and lonely When I found myself the only Population on this cultivated shore; But I've made a little tavern In a rocky little cavern, And I sit and watch for people at the door. I spent no time in looking For a girl to do my cooking, As I'm quite a clever hand at making stews ; Just to keep the tavern tidy, And to put a Sunday polish on my shoes. I have a little garden That I'm cultivating lard in, As the things I eat are rather tough and dry; Prickly pears, and parrot gizzards, And I'm really very fond of beetle-pie. The clothes I had were furry, And it made me fret and worry When I found the moths were eating off the hair; And I had to scrape and sand 'em, And I boiled 'em and I tanned 'em, Till I got the fine morocco suit I wear. I sometimes seek diversion In a family excursion With the few domestic animals you see; And we take along a carrot As refreshments for the parrot, And a little cup of jungleberry tea. Then we gather as we travel Bits of moss and dirty gravel, Just to give the day a scientific tone. If the roads are wet and muddy, We remain at home and study, For the Goat is very clever at a sum― And the Dog instead of fighting, Studies ornamental writing, While the Cat is taking lessons on the drum. We retire at eleven, And we rise again at seven; And I wish to call attention, as I close, To the fact that all the scholars Are correct about their collars, And particular in turning out their toes. CHAS. EDWARD CARRYL. LOVE UNDER THE LEDGER. LOVE knock'd one night, at a Gentleman's heart, When his passions were snug asleep; But they all jumped up, with a terrible start, All heels over head, in a heap. All heels over head, in a heap. Says the gentleman—this will never do, And as sharp as the end of my quill, And my heart is so full of the girls you've brought, I can't 'tend to business at all, as I ought. When I go to enter a price in my book, I write down her name, in its stead. Says Love, with a giggle, come, dear sir, Let me chuck but the image of this girl in, See the poor thing, how pale and thin— M'DONALD CLARKE. OLD GRIMES. OLD Grimes is dead; that good old man We never shall see more: He used to wear a long, black coat, All button'd down before. His heart was open as the day, His feelings all were true; His hair was some inclined to gray- Whene'er he heard the voice of pain, Kind words he ever had for all; His eyes were dark and rather small, He lived at peace with all mankind, His pantaloons were blue. Unharm'd, the sin which earth pollutes He pass'd securely o'er, For thirty years or more. But good old Grimes is now at rest, He wore a double-breasted vest- He modest merit sought to find, He had no malice in his mind, No ruffles on his shirt. His neighbors he did not abuse- He wore large buckles on his shoes, His knowledge, hid from public gaze, Nor made a noise, town-meeting days, His worldly goods he never threw Thus undisturb'd by anxious cares, And everybody said he was A fine old gentleman. ALBERT G. GREENE. THE LAST LEAF. I SAW him once before, The pavement stones resound, As he totters o'er the ground They say that in his prime, |