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WIT-HUMOR-BURLESQUE.

THE RHYMING APOTHECARY

A MEMBER of the Esculapian line
Lived at Newcastle-upon-Tyne ;
No man could better gild a pill,
Or make a bill;

Or mix a draught, or bleed, or blister;
Or draw a tooth out of your

Or chatter scandal by your

head;

bed;

Or spread a plaster.

He had a patient lying at death's door,
Some three miles from the town,

it might be four,➡

To whom, one evening, Bolus sent an article,

In pharmacy that 's called cathartical,

And on the label of the stuff

He wrote a verse,

Which, one would think, was clear enough,

And terse:

"When taken,

To be well shaken."

Early next morning, Bolus rose,
And to his patient's house he goes,
Upon his pad,

Which a vile trick of stumbling had :
It was, indeed, a very sorry hack;
But that 's of course;

For, what's expected from a horse,
With an apothecary on his back?
Bolus arrived, and gave a loudish tap,
Between a single and a double rap.

Knocks of this kind

Are given by gentlemen, who teach to dance;
By fiddlers and by opera singers;

One loud, and then a little one behind,
As if the knocker fell by chance

Out of their fingers.

The servant lets him in with dismal face,
Long as a courtier's out of place —
Portending some disaster;

John's countenance as rueful looked and grim,
As if th' apothecary had physicked him,
And not his master.

"Well, how's the patient?" Bolus said: John shook his head.

"Indeed!-- hum!-ha! - that's

He took the draught?"

John

"Well, how? what then? 'Why, then," says John,

66

very odd!

gave a nod. Speak out, you dunce!" we shook him once."

"Shook him! how?" Bolus stammered out.
"We jolted him about."

"Zounds! shake a patient, man!
"No, sir, and so we gave him two."
"Two shakes!

- odds curse!

"T would make the patient worse."

a shake won't do."

"It did so, sir, and so a third we tried."

66

"Well, and what then?". Then, sir, my master died."

COLM AN

ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER.

WILL WAG went to see Charley Quirk,

More famed for his books than his knowledge,

In order to borrow a work

He had sought for in vain over college.

But Charley replied "My dear friend,
You must know I have sworn and agreed
My books from my room not to lend, -
But you may sit by my fire and read."

Now it happened, by chance, on the morrow,
That Quirk, with a cold, quivering air,
Came his neighbor Will's bellows to borrow,
For his own they were out of repair.

But Willy replied "My dear friend,
I have sworn and agreed, you must know,
That my bellows I never will lend,
But you may sit by my fire and blow."

MRS. GILMAN.

OLD GRIMES.

OLD GRIMES is dead; that good old man
We never shall see more ;

He used to wear a long black coat,
All buttoned down before.

His heart was open as the day,
His feelings all were true;

His hair was some inclined to gray -
He wore it in a cue.

Whene'er he heard the voice of pain,
His breast with pity burned;
The large round head upon his cane
From ivory was turned.

Kind words he ever had for all;
He knew no base design;

His eyes were dark and rather small,
His nose was aquiline.

He lived at peace with all mankind;
In friendship he was true;

His coat had pocket-holes behind ;
His pantaloons were blue.

Unharmed, the sin which earth pollutes

He passed securely o'er ;

And never wore a pair of boots
For thirty years or more.

But good old Grimes is now at rest,
Nor fears misfortune's frown;
He wore a double-breasted vest-
The stripes ran up and down

He modest merit sought to find,
And pay it its desert;

He had no malice in his mind,
No ruffles on his shirt.

His neighbors he did not abuse-
Was sociable and gay;

He wore large buckles on his shoes,
And changed them every day.

His knowledge, hid from public gaze,
He did not bring to view;

Nor make a noise, town-meeting days,
As many people do.

His worldly goods he never threw
In trust to fortune's chances;
But lived (as all his brothers do)
In easy circumstances.

Thus undisturbed by anxious cares,
His peaceful moments ran,
And everybody said he was
A fine old gentleman.

ALBERT G. GREENE

THE REMOVAL.

A NERVOUS old gentleman, tired of trade,

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By which, though, it seems, he a fortune had made,
Took a house 'twixt two sheds, at the skirts of the town,
Which he meant, at his leisure, to buy and pull down.

This thought struck his mind when he viewed the estate
But, alas! when he entered he found it too late;
For in each dwelt a smith :· a more hard-working two
Never doctored a patient, or put on a shoe.

At six in the morning, their anvils, at work,
Awoke our good squire, who raged like a Turk :
"These fellows," he cried, "such a clattering keep,
That I never can get above eight hours of sleep."

From morning till night they keep thumping away,-
No sound but the anvil the whole of the day:
His afternoon's nap, and his daughter's new song,
Were banished and spoiled by their hammers' ding-dong

He offered each Vulcan to purchase his shop;
But, no! they were stubborn, determined to stop:
At length (both his spirits and health to improve)
He cried, "I'll give each fifty guineas to move."

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'Agreed!" said the pair; "that will make us amends." "Then come to my house, and let us part friends:

You shall dine; and we 'll drink on this joyful occasion,
That each may live long in his new habitation."

He gave the two blacksmiths a sumptuous regale,
He spared not provisions, his wine, nor his ale;

So much was he pleased with the thought that each guest
Would take from him noise, and restore to him rest.

"And now," said he, "tell me, where mean you to moveI hope to some spot where your trade will improve?' "Why, sir," replied one, with a grin on his phiz,

"Tom Forge moves to my shop, and I move to his!"

ANONYMOUS

HISTORY OF JOHN DAY.

JOHN DAY, he was the biggest man
Of all the coachman kind;

With back too broad to be conceived
By any narrow mind.

The very horses knew his weight,
When he was in the rear,
And wished his box a christmas-box,
To come but once a year.

Alas! against the shafts of love
What armor can avail?

Soon Cupid sent an arrow through

His scarlet coat of mail.

The bar-maid of "The Crown" he loved,
From whom he never ranged;
For, though he changed his horses there,
His love he never changed.

He thought her fairest of all fares,
So fondly love prefers ;
And often among twelve outsides,
No outside deemed like hers.

One day as she was sitting down
Beside the porter pump,

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