Consuming all his time, and strength away, He work'd, and slav'd, and—oh! how slow it fills! 4. In a wet season—he would skip about, 5. Then he would wade through ev'ry dirty spot, "What d'ye mean? 6. If some poor neighbor crav'd to slake his thirst, 7. The Sun still found him, as he rose or set, 8. With drains, and troughs, and pipes, and cuts, and sluices, By some conveyance, or another, still No stone unturn'd-that could have water under. 9. Sometimes when forc'd to quit his awkward toil, How much he suffer'd, at a mod❜rate guess, 10. "First for myself-my daily charges here Although, thank Heav'n, I never boil my meat, But things are come to such a pass indeed, So many proud, fantastic modes, in short, 11. "Not but I could be well enough content 12. Nay, how can one imagine it should thrive, That creep from every nook and corner, marry! : One month's fair weather-and I am undone !" 13. This life he led for many a year together: He scream'd, and scrambl'd, but 'twas all in vain : And so in the middle of his pond-he died! 14. What think ye now from this imperfect sketch, My friends, of such a miserable wretch ?— "Why, 'tis a wretch, we think, of your own making; No fool could be suppos'd in such a taking: Your own warm fancy"-Nay, but warm or cool, The world abounds with many such a fool: The choicest ills, the greatest torments, sure, Are those, which numbers labor to endure"What! for a pond !"-Why, call it an ESTATE; You change the name, but realize the fate. 8 Mr. POTIPHAR'S COMPLAINT.-THE POTIPHAR PAPERS. 1. One day Polly said to me: "Mr. Potiphar, we're getting down town.” "What do you mean, my dear?" 66 Why, every body is building above, and there are actually shops in the next street. Singe, the pastry cook, has hired Mrs. Croesus's old house." 2. "I know it. Old Croesus told me so some time ago; and he said how sorry he was to go. Why, Potiphar,' said he, 'I really hoped when I built there, that I should stay, and not go out of the house, finally, until I went into no other. 3. I have lived there long enough to love the place, and have some associations with it; and my family have grown up in it, and love the old house too. It was our home. 4. When any of us said 'home,' we meant not the family only, but the house in which the family lived, where the children were all born, and where two have died, and my old mother, too. I'm in a new house now, and have lost my reckoning entirely. I don't know the house; I've no associations with it. 5. The house is new, the furniture is new, and my feelings are new. It's a farce for me to begin again, in this way. But my wife says it's all right, that every body does it, and wants to know how it can be helped; and as I dont want to argue the matter, I look amen.' That's the way Mr. Croesus submits to his new house. Mrs. Potiphar." 6. "I'm ashamed of you, Potiphar. Do you pretend to be an American, and not give way willingly to the march of improvement? You had better talk with Mr. Cream Cheese upon the 'genius of the country.' 66 7. You are really unpatriotic, you show nothing of the enterprising spirit of your time." Yes," I answer. "That's pretty from you; you are patriotic, are n't you, with your liveries and illimitable expenses, and your low bows to money, and your immense intimacy with all lords and ladies that honor the city by visiting it. You are prodigiously patriotic with your insane imitations of a splendor impossible to you in the nature of things. You are the ideal American woman, aren't you, Mrs. Potiphar." 8. Then I run, for I'm afraid of myself, as much as of her. I am sick of this universal plea of patriotism. It is used to excuse all the follies that outrage it. I am not patriotic if I don't do this and that, which, if done, is a ludicrous caricature of something foreign. I am not up to the time, if I persist in having my own comfort in my own way. 9. I try to resist the irresistible march of improvement, if I decline to build a great house; which, when it is built, is a puny copy of a bad model. I am very unpatriotic, if I am not trying to outspend foreign noblemen, and if I don't affect, without education, or taste, or habit, what is only beautiful, when it is only the result of the three. THE TRUMPETER.MRS. ROBINSON. 1. It was in the days of a gay British king, 2. Some talk'd of their valor, and some of their race, And, like braggarts, they bragg'd one and all! Some spoke of their scars in the holy crusade, Some boasted the banner of Fame they displayed, And some sang their loves in the soft serenade, As they sat in the banqueting-hall. |