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The truth is, sir, now I reflect,

I've been so sadly given to grog, 1 wonder I've not lost the respect

(Here's to you, sir!) even of my dog.
But he sticks by, through thick and thin;
And this old coat, with its empty pockets,
And rags that smell of tobacco and gin,

He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets.

There isn't another creature living

Would do it, and prove, through every disaster,
So fond, so faithful, and so forgiving,

To such a miserable, thankless master!
No, sir!-see him wag his tail and grin!
By George! it makes my old eyes water:

That is, there's something in this gin

That chokes a fellow. But no matter.

We'll have some music, if you're willing,

And Roger (hem!

Shall march a little.

Stand straight!

Put up that paw!

what a plague a cough is, sir!) Start, you villain!

'Bout face! Salute your officer! Dress! Take your rifle!

(Some dogs have arms, you see!) Now hold your

Cap while the gentlemen give a trifle

To aid a poor old patriot soldier.

March!

Halt! Now show how the rebel shakes, When he stands up to hear his sentence. Now tell us how many drams it takes

To honor a jolly new acquaintance.

Five yelps, that's five; he's mighty knowing!
The night's before us, fill the glasses!--
Quick, sir! I'm ill,--my brain is going!--
Some brandy!-thank you!-there!-it passes!

Why not reform? That's easily said;

But I've gone through such wretched treatment, Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread,

And scarce remembering what meat meant,

That my poor stomach's past reform;

And there are times when, mad with thinking,

I'd sell out heaven for something warm

To prop a horrible inward sinking.

Is there a way to forget to think?

At your age, sir, home, fortune, friends,
A dear girl's love,—but I took to drink;-
The same old story; you know how it ends.
If f you could have seen these classic features,-
You needn't laugh, sir; they were not then
Such a burning libel on God's creatures:
I was one of your handsome men!

If you had seen her, so fair and young,

Whose head was happy on this breast!

If you could have heard the songs I sung

When the wine went round, you wouldn't have guessed

That ever I, sir, should be straying

From door to door, with fiddle and dog,

Ragged and penniless, and playing

To you to-night for a glass of grog!

She's married since,-a parson's wife:
'Twas better for her that we should part,-

Better the soberest, prosiset life

Than a blasted home and a broken heart.

I have seen her? Once: I was weak and spent;

On the dusty road a carriage stopped;

But little she dreamed as on she went,

Who kissed the coin that her fingers dropped.

You've set me talking, sir; I'm sorry,

【 makes me wild to think of the change!

What do care for a beggar's story?

Is it amusin

You find it strange?

I had a mother so proud of me!

'T was well she died before-Do you know

If the happy spirits in heaven car

The ruin and wretchedness here below.

Another glass, and strong, to deaden
This pain; then Roger and I will start.
I wonder has he such a lumpish, leaden,

Aching thing in place of a heart?

He is sad sometimes, and would weep if he could,
No doubt remembering things that were,-

A virtuous kennel, with plenty of food,

And himself a sober, respectable cur.

I'm better now; that glass was warming,-
You rascal! limber your lazy feet!

We must be fiddling and performing

For supper and bed, or starve in the street.

Not a very gay life to lead, think?

you

But soon we shall go where lodgings are free,
And the sleepers need neither victuals nor drink ;—

The sooner the better, for Roger and me!

J. T. TROWBRIDGE,

THE GAMBLER'S WIFE.

Dark is the night. How dark! No light! No fire!
Cold on the hearth the last faint sparks expire!

Shivering, she watches by the cradle side,

For him who pledged her love, last year a bride!

"Hark! "T is his footstep! No! 'Tis past! 'Tis gone!"

Tick! Tick! "How wearily the time crawls on!

Why should he leave me thus?

And I believed 't would last!

He once was kind!

How mad! How blind!

"Rest thee, my babe! Rest on! 'Tis hunger's cry! Sleep! For there is no food! The fount is dry!

Famine and cold their wearying work have done;

My heart must break! And thou!" The clock strikes one.

"Hush! 't is the dice-box! Yes, he 's there! he 's there! For this, for this he leaves me to despair!

Leaves love, reaves truth, his wife, his child, for what?
The wanton's smile, the villain, and the sot!

"Yet I'll not curse him. No! 'T is all in vain! "T is long to wait, but sure he 'll come again! And I could starve, and bless him, but for you,

My child! My child! Oh fiend!" The clock strikes two.

"Hark! How the sign-board creaks! The blast howls by. Moan! moan! A dirge swells through the cloudy sky! Ha! T is his knock! He comes, he comes once more!" 'T is but the lattice flaps! Thy hope is o'er!

"Can he desert us thus? He knows I stay,
Night after night, in loneliness, to pray
For his return; and yet he sees no tear!
No! No! It can not be! He will be here!

"Nestle more closely, dear one, to my heart!

Thou 'rt cold! Thou 'rt freezing! But we will not part!
Husband! I die! Father! It is not he!

Oh, God! protect my child!"

The clock strikes three.

They're gone, they 're gone! The glimmering spark hata fled! The wife and child are numbered with the dead.

The gambler came at last; but all was o'er;

Dread silence reigned around. The clock struck four.

COATES.

LOOK ALOFT.

In the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale
Are around and above, if thy footing should fail;
If thine eye should grow dim, and thy caution depart;
"Look aloft," and be firm, and be fearless of heart.

If the friend who embraced in prosperity's glow,
With a smile for each joy, and a tear for each woe,

Should betray thee when sorrows like clouds are arrayed; "Look aloft," to the friendship which never shall fade.

Should the visions which hope spread in light to thine eye,
Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly;
Then turn, and through tears of repentant regret,
"Look aloft" to the sun that is never to set.

Should they who are nearest and dearest thy heart;
Thy relations and friends, in sorrow depart;
"Look aloft," from the darkness and dust of the tomb,
To that soil where affection is ever in bloom.

And O, when death comes in terrors, to cast : His fears on the future, his pall on the past;

In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart,
And a smile in thine eye, "look aloft," and depart.

"CLEON AND I."

Cleon hath a million acres,-ne'er a one have I:
Cleon dwelleth in a palace,—in a cottage, I:
Cleon hath a dozen fortunes,-not a penny, I;
But the poorer of the twain is Cleon, and not I.

Cleon, true, possesseth acres,—but the landscape, I:
Half the charms to me it yieldeth, money cannot buy:
Cleon harbors sloth and dullness,—freshening vigor,
He in velvet, I in fustian-richer man am I.

1:

Cleon is a slave to grandeur,-free as thought am I:
Cleon fees a score of doctors,―need of none have I.
Wealth-surrounded, care-environed, Cleon fears to die.
Death may come, -he'll find me ready,-happier man am I.

Cleon sees no charms in Nature,—in a daisy, I:
Cleon hears no anthems ringing in the sea and sky.

Nature sings to me forever,-earnest listener, I:

State for state, with all attendants, who would change? not I.

CHARLES MACKAY.

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