A scamp well known to annals of fame,
Whom, the hapless editor hoping to tame,
Had ventured to publish, and that by name.
At the foot of the stair,

Or near it somewhere,

The monster met him, demanding redress,
And, just like the other, began to press
Poor editor hard with a Billingsgate mess,
And threaten forthwith his hide to dress,
When necessity, mother of all invention,
And a brain editorial, used to tension,
Contrived a means of diverting attention.
"Stranger," said he,

"Be not too free,

In applying abusive words to me;
Up stairs is the person you wish to see."
Up stairs, all raging, the rowdy flew,
(Neither complainant the other knew),
So the moment they met, without more ado,
At it they went in a regular set-to.
A terrible tussle,

A terrible bustle,

They make, as around the room they wrestle;
There were very few words, but plenty of blows,
For they fought like a couple of deadly foes,
Till each had acquired a bloody nose;
And each had the pleasure distinctly to spy,
In the face of the other, a very black eye!

THANKSGIVING DAY.

COME home from the college, ye ringlet-haired youth; Come home from the factories, Ann, Kate, and Ruth; From the anvil, the counter, the farm, come away, Home, home with you, home, it is Thanksgiving Day !

The table is spread, and the dinner is dressed,
The cooks and the mothers have all done their best ;
No caliph of Bagdad e'er saw such display,

Or dreamed of a treat like our Thanksgiving Day!

Pies, puddings, and custards, pigs, oysters, and nuts,
Come forward and seize them without IFS or BUTS;
Bring none of your slim little appetites here;-
Thanksgiving Day comes only once in a year!

Thrice welcome the day in its annual round!
What treasures of love in its bosom are found!
New England's high holiday, ancient and dear!
'T would be twice as welcome, if twice in a year!

Now children revisit the darling old place,
Now brother and sister, long parted, embrace,
The family ring is united once more,

And the same voices shout at the old cottage door!

The grandfather smiles on the innocent mirth,
And blesses the Power that has guarded his hearth;
He remembers no trouble, he feels no decay,
But thinks his whole life has been Thanksgiving Day!

Then praise for the past and the present we sing,
And, trustful, await what the future may bring;
Let doubt and repining be banished away,
And the whole of our lives be a Thanksgiving Day!

[Henry Ware, Jun.

THE COLLEGIAN AND THE JANITOR.
AT Trin. Coll. Cam.,-which means, in proper spelling,
Trinity College Cambridge, there resided
One Harry Dashington, a youth excelling
In all the learning commonly provided
For those who choose that classic station
For finishing their education:

That is, he understood computing

The odds at any race or match; Was a dead hand at pigeon-shooting;

Could kick up rows,-knock down the watch,— Play truant and the rake at random,— Drink,-tie cravats, and drive a tandem. Remonstrance, fine, and rustication, So far from working reformation,

Seemed but to make his lapses greater, Till he was warned that next offense Would have this certain consequence,Expulsion from his Alma Mater.

One need not be a necromancer

To guess that, with so wild a wight,
The next offense occurred the next night;
When our incurable came rolling

Home as the midnight chimes were tolling,
And rang the college bell. No answer.
The second peal was vain,-the third

Made the street echo its alarum ;
When, to his great delight, he heard
The sordid janitor, old Ben,
Rousing and growling in his den.

"Who's there?—I s'pose, young Harum-scarum.' "Tis I, my worthy Ben,-'TIS HARRY."

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"Ay, so I thought; and there you'll tarry. 'Tis past the hour, the gates are closed, You know my orders,-I shall lose My place, if I undo the door." "And I, young Hopeful interposed, Shall be expelled, if you refuse;

66

So prithee "-Ben began to snore. "I'm wet," cried Harry, "to the skin;

Hip! halloo! Ben!-Don't be a ninny; Beneath the gate I've thrust a guinea,-So tumble out and let me in."

"Humph!" growled the greedy old curmudgeon, Half overjoyed and half in dudgeon, "Now you may pass; but make no fuss, On tiptoe walk, and hold your prate." "Look on the stones, old Cerberus,"

Cried Harry as he passed the gate; "I've dropped a shilling; take the light, You'll find it just outside;-good night." Behold the porter in his shirt,

Cursing the rain, which never stopped,

Groping and raking in the dirt,

And all without success: but that

Is hardly to be wondered at,

Because no shilling had been dropped;

So he gave o'er the search at last,
Regained the door, and found it fast!

With sundry oaths, and growls, and groans,
He rang,-once,-twice,-thrice; and then,
Mingled with giggling, heard the tones

Of Harry mimicking old Ben.
"Who's there? 'Tis really a disgrace

To ring so loud;-I've locked the gate,
I know my duty,-'t is too late,—
You wouldn't have me lose my place!"

"Psha! Mr. Dashington, remember

This is the middle of November.

I'm stripped; 't is raining cats and dogs." "Hush! hush!" quoth Hal, "I'm fast asleep" And then he snored as loud and deep As a whole company of hogs.

"But, harkye, Ben, I'll grant admittance At the same rate I paid myself."

"Nay, master, leave me half the pittance," Replied the avaricious elf.

"No; all or none, -a full acquittance;

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The terms, I know, are somewhat high;
But you have fixed the price, not I;

I won't take less, I can't afford it."
So finding all his haggling vain,
Ben, with an oath, and groan of pain,

Drew out the guinea, and restored it.
Surely you'll give me," growled th' outwitted
Porter, when again admitted,

Something, now you've done your joking,
For all this trouble, time, and soaking."

"O! surely, surely," Harry said;
"Since, as you urge, I broke your rest,

And you're half drowned, and quite undressed,— I'll give you leave to go to bed."

[Horace Smith,

JOHN LITTLEJOHN.
JOHN LITTLEJOHN was stanch and strong,
Upright and downright, scorning wrong;
He gave good weight, and paid his way,
He thought for himself, and he said his say.
Whenever a rascal strove to pass,

Instead of silver, money of brass,

He took his hammer, and said, with a frown,— "The coin is spurious, nail it down."

John Littlejohn was firm and true,

You could not cheat him in "two and two ;" When foolish arguers, might and main, Daikened and twisted the clear and plain, He saw, through the mazes of their speech, The simple truth beyond their reach; And crushing their logic, said with a frown,"Your coin is spurious, nail it down."