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Here she goesand there she goes ! “Here! where ?"—the lady in surprise

His finger followed with her eyes;
“Son, why that steady gaze and sad ?
Those words—that motion—are you mad?
But here 's your wife—perhaps she knows,

Here she goesand there she goes !

His wife surveyed him with alarm,
And rushed to him and seized his arm;
He shook her off, and to and fro
His finger persevered to go,
While curled his very nose with ire,
That she against him should conspire,
And with more furious tone arose
The Here she goesand there she goes !'

“Lawks!” screamed the wife, “I'm in a whirl!
Run down and bring the little girl;
She is his darling, and who knows

Here she goesand there she goes ! "

Lawks! he is mad! What made him thus?
Good Lord! what will become of us?
Run for a doctor-run-run-run
For Doctor Brown, and Doctor Dun,
And Doctor Black, and Doctor White,
And Doctor Grey, with all your might.”

The doctors came, and looked and wondered, And shook their heads, and paused and pondered, Till one proposed he should be bled, “No-leeched, you mean,” the other said — “ Clap on a blister,” roared another, “No-cup him "-"No—trepan him, brother!"

A sixth would recommend a purge,
The next would an emetic urge,
The eighth, just come from a dissection,
His verdict gave for an injection;
The last produced a box of pills,
A certain cure for earthly ills;
"I had a patient yesternight,”
Quoth he, “and wretched was her plight,
And as the only means to save her,
Three dozen patent pills I gave her,
And by to-morrow, I suppose

Here she goesand there she goes / "

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“You all are fools,” the lady said,
“The way is, just to shave his head,

Run, bid the barber come anon—"
" Thanks, mother," thought her clever son,
“ You help the knaves that would have bit me,
But all creation sha' n't outwit me!"
Thus to himself, while to and fro
His finger perseveres to go,
And from his lips no accent flows
But “ Here she goesand there she goes !"
The barber came—“Lord help him! what
A queer customer I 've got;
But we must do our best to save him
So hold him, gemmen, while I shave him!”
But here the doctors interpose-
"A woman never-

" There she goes /

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A woman is no judge of physic, Not even when her baby is sick. He must be bled"_"No-no-a blister". “A purge you mean "_“I say a clyster"“No-cup him "-"leech him "-"pills! pills! pills ! And all the house the uproar fills.

What means that smile? What means that shiver ? The landlord's limbs with rapture quiver, And triumph brightens up his faceHis finger yet shall win the race! The clock is on the stroke of nine And up he starts—“'T is mine! 't is mine!" “What do you mean?”

“I mean the fifty!
I never spent an hour so thrifty;
But you, who tried to make me lose,
Go, burst with envy, if you choose!
But how is this! Where are they?

" Who?” “The gentlemen—I mean the two

Came yesterday_are they below ?“They galloped off an hour ago." “Oh, purge me! blister! shave and bleed! For, hang the knaves, I'm mad indeed!”


She Died in Beauty.

She died in beauty,—like a rose

Blown from its parent stem;
She died in beauty, like a pearl

Dropped from some diadem.

She died in beauty, like a lay

Along a moonlit lake;
She died in beauty, like the song

Of birds amid the brake.

She died in beauty, like the snow

On flowers dissolved away;
She died in beauty,-like a star

Lost on the brow of day.

She lives in glory,---like night's gems

Set round the silver moon;
She lives in glory,--like the sun
Amid the blue of June.


The New Tale of a Tub.

The Orient day was fresh and fair,
A breeze sang soft in the ambient air,
Men almost wondered to find it there,

Blowing so near Bengal,
Where waters bubble as boiled in a pot,
And the gold of the sun spread melting hot,
And there 's hardly a breath of wind to be got

At any price at all.
Unless, indeed, when the great Simoom


from its bed with the voice of doom,
And deserts no rains e'er drench
Rise up and roar with a dreadful gust,
Pillars of sand and clouds of dust
Rushing on drifted, and rapid to burst,
And filling all India's throat with thirst

That its Ganges could n't quench.

No great Simoom rose up to-day,

But only a gentle breeze,
And that of such silent and voiceless play

That a lady's bustle

Had made more rustle
Than it did among the trees.
'T was not like the breath of a British vale,
Where each Green acre is blessed with a Galo

Whenever the natives please;
But it was of that soft inviting sort
That it tempted to revel in picnic sport

A couple of Bengalese.

Two Bengalese

Resolved to seize
The balmy chance of that cool-winged weather,
To revel in Bengal ease together.

One was tall, the other was stout,
They were natives both of the glorious East,
And both so fond of a rural feast
That off they roamed to a country plain,

Where the breeze roved free about,
That during its visits brief, at least,
If it never were able to blow again,

It might blow upon their blow-out.


The country plain gave a view as small

As ever man clapped his eyes on, Where the sense of sight did easily pall, For it kept on seeing nothing at all,

As far as the far horizon.
Nothing at all l-Oh! what do I
Something certainly stood in the way
(Though it had neither cloth nor tray,

With its “ tiffin " I would n't quarrel)-
It was a sort of hermaphrodite thing,
(It might have been filled with sugar or ling
But is very unfit for a muse to sing),

Betwixt a tub and a barrel.

It stood in the midst of that Indian plain,
Burning with sunshine, pining for rain,
A parenthesis balanced 'twixt pleasure and pain,

And as stiff as if it were starching, -
When up to it, over the brown and green
Of that Indian soil, were suddenly seen

Two gentlemen anxiously marching. Those two gentlemen were,


you please, The aforesaid couple of Bengalese; And the tub or barrel that stood beyond

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