"No matter if the fellow be a knave, Provided that the razors shave:

It sartinly will be a monstrous prize."

So, home the clown, with his good fortune, went,
Smiling in heart and soul content,

And quickly soap'd himself to ears and eyes.
Being well lather'd from a dish or tub,
Hodge now began with grinning pain to grub,
Just like a hedger cutting furze:

"Twas a vile razor!-then the rest he tried-
All were impostors-"Ah!" Hodge sigh'd,

"I wish my eighteen-pence within my purse!"

In vain to chase his beard, and bring the graces,
He cut, and dug, and winced, and stamp'd, and swore;
Brought blood and danced, blasphemed and made wry
And cursed each razor's body o'er and o'er!

His muzzle, form'd of opposition stuff,
Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff;
So kept it-laughing at the steel and suds:
Hodge, in a passion, stretch'd his angry jaws,
Vowing the direst vengeance, with clinch'd claws,
On the vile cheat that sold the goods.

Razors! a damn'd confounded dog!

Not fit to scrape a hog!"

Hodge sought the fellow-found him, and began—
"Perhaps, Master Razor-rogue, to you 'tis fun,

That people flay themselves out of their lives:
You rascal! for an hour have I been grubbing,
Giving my scoundrel whiskers here a scrubbing,
With razors just like oyster-knives.
Sirrah! I tell you, you're a knave,
To cry up razors that can't shave."

Friend," quoth the razor-man, I am no knave:
As for the razors you have bought,

Upon my soul, I never thought

That they would shave."

64

[faces,

Not think they'd shave!" quoth Hodge, with wondering And voice not much unlike an Indian yell; [eyes, "What were they made for then, you dog!" he cries.

"Made!" quoth the fellow, with a smile,-" to sell.”

Pindar:

The Case Altered.

HODGE held a farm, and smiled content,
While one year paid another's rent;
But, if he ran the least behind,
Vexation stung his anxious mind;
For not an hour would landlord stay,
But seize the very quarter-day.
How cheap soe'er or scant the grain,
Though urged with truth, was urged in vain.
The same to him, if false or true;

For rent must come when rent was due.
Yet that same landlord's cows and steeds
Broke Hodge's fence, and cropp'd his meads.
In hunting, that same landlord's hounds-
See! how they spread his new-sown grounds.
Dog, horse, and man, alike o'erjoy'd,
While half the rising crop's destroy'd;
Yet tamely was the loss sustain'd.
"Tis said, the sufferer once complain'd:
The Squire laugh'd loudly while he spoke,
And paid the bumpkin-with a joke.

But luckless still poor Hodge's fate:
His worship's bull had forced a gate,
And gored his cow, the last and best;
By sickness he had lost the rest.
Hodge felt at heart resentment strong-
The heart will feel that suffers long.
A thought that instant took his head,

And thus within himself he said:

-

If Hodge, for once, don't sting the Squire, May people post him for a liar!"

He said- -across his shoulder throws
His fork, and to his landlord goes.

"I come, an't please you, to unfold
What, soon or late, you must be told.
My
bull- —a creature tame till now-
My bull has gored your worship's cow.
'Tis known what shifts I make to live:
Perhaps your honour may forgive."
"Forgive!" the Squire replied, and swore;
Pray cant to me, forgive, no more;

The law my damage shall decide;
And know, that I'll be satisfied.”
"Think, sir, I'm poor-poor as a rat."
"Think, I'm a justice-think of that!"
Hodge bow'd again, and scratch'd his head;
And, recollecting, archly said,

66

Sir, I'm so struck when here before ye,
I fear I've blunder'd in the story.

'Fore George! but I'll not blunder now :
Yours was the bull, sir; mine, the cow!"
His worship found his rage subside,
And with calm accent thus replied:
"I'll think upon your case to-night;
But I perceive 'tis alter'd quite !"
Hodge shrugg'd, and made another bow :
"An' please ye, where's the justice now?"

The Turban Hat.

BEAUTIFUL girl in the turban hat!

Anonymous.

I lost my heart when you mounted that;
It wandered away 'mid the folds of your hair—
Got tangled-and now lies captive there.

Remember, when combing your locks to-night,
Should some tresses be twisted together tight,
Look out for my heart, and some others you've spurn'd
That strayed from their owners and never returned.

In moments of courage I've been inclined

To give you, dear girl, a piece of my mind;
But now it's too late, for with grief I see,
My peace of mind has deserted me.

Artists may picture and poets praise
The scant-clad Venus of former days;
But lovelier far to my eyes than that
Are the well-draped form and the turban hat.
Beautiful girl, well may you wear;
Never may sorrow whiten one hair
Of the clusters that make my pulse go pat,
As I look at yourself and your turban hat!

Irwin.

379

ADDITIONAL HUMOROUS SELECTIONS.

The Duel.

IN Brentfield town, of old renown, there lived a Mister Bray,

Who fell in love with Lucy Bell—and so did Mr Clay.

Said Mr Bray to Mr. Clay, "You choose to rival me, And court Miss Bell; but there your court no thoroughfare shall be.

"Unless you now give up your suit, you may repent your love;

I, who have shot a pigeon match, can shoot a turtle dove." Said Mr. Clay to Mr. Bray, "Your threats I quite explode; One who has been a volunteer knows how to prime and load.

"And so I say to you, unless your passion quiet keeps, I, who have shot and hit bull's eye, may chance to hit a sheep's."

red;

Now gold is oft for silver changed, and that for copper But these two went away to give each other change for lead.

to give

But first they sought a friend a-piece, this pleasant thought [still to live. When they were dead, they thus should have two seconds To measure out the ground, not long the seconds then forbore,

And, having taken one rash step, they took a dozen more. They next prepared each pistol-pan against the deadly strife,

By putting in the prime of death against the prime of life. Now all was ready for the foes; but when they took their stands [shaking hands. Fear made them tremble, so they found they both were

Said Mr. C. to Mr. B., “Here one of us may fall,

And, like St. Paul's Cathedral, now be doomed to have a ball.

"I do confess I did attach misconduct to your name ;

If I withdraw the charge, will then your ramrod do the same?"

Said Mr. B. "I do agree—but think of Honour's Courts ! If we go off without a shot, there will be strange reports. "But look, the morning now is bright, though cloudy it begun ;

Why can't we aim above, as if we had called out the sun ?” So up into the harmless air their bullets they did send; And may all other duels have that upshot in the end! Thomas Hood.

Cupid's Arrow.

YOUNG Cupid went storming to Vulcan one day,
And besought him to look at his arrow.

""Tis useless," he cried; "you must mend it, I say!
'Tis not fit to let fly at a sparrow.

There's something that's wrong in the shaft or the dart, For it flutters, quite false to my aim;

'Tis an age since it fairly went home to the heart, And the world really jests at my name.

"I have straightened, I've bent, I've tried all, I declare ; I've perfumed it with sweetest of sighs;

"Tis feathered with ringlets my mother might wear,
And the barb gleams with light from young eyes ;
But it falls without touching-I'll break it, I vow,
For there's Hymen beginning to pout;

He's complaining his torch burns so dull and so low
That Zephyr might puff it right out."

Little Cupid went on with his pitiful tale,
Till Vulcan the weapon restored.

"There, take it, young sir; try it now-if it fail,
I will ask neither fee nor reward."

The urchin shot out, and rare havoc he made;
The wounded and dead were untold:

But no wonder the rogue had such slaughtering trade,
For the arrow was laden with gold.

Eliza Cook.