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And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar :
Which the same I would rise to explain.
Which is why I remark,
And my language is plain,
And for tricks that are vain,
FRANCIS BRET HARTE.
Ah Sin was his name ;
And I shall not deny In regard to the same
What that name might imply; But his smile it was pensive and childlike,
As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye.
It was August the third,
And quite soft was the skies, Which it might be inferred
That Ah Sin was likewise : Yet he played it that day upon William
And me in a way I despise.
Which we had a small game,
And Ah Sin took a hand :
He did not understand ;
With the smile that was childlike and bland.
Good reader, if you e'er have seen,
When Phæbus hastens to his pillow, The mermaids, with their tresses green,
Dancing upon the western billow ; If you have seen at twilight dim, When the lone spirit's vesper-hymn
Floats wild along the winding shore, If you have seen through mist of eve The fairy train their ringlets weave, Glancing along the spangled green ;
If you have seen all this, and more, God bless me! what a deal you've seen!
Yet the cards they were stocked
In a way that I grieve,
At the state of Nye's sleeve,
And the same with intent to deceive.
AN EPIGRAM. Men dying make their wills - but wives
Escape a work so sad ; Why should they make what all their lives
The gentle' dames have had !
But the hands that were played
By that heathen Chinee,
Were quite frightful to see —
Which the same Nye had dealt unto me.
Then I looked up at Nye,
And he gazed upon me; And he rose with a sigh,
And said, “Can this be ? We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor," —
And he went for that heathen Chinee,
In the scene that ensued
I did not take a hand, But the floor it was strewed
Like the leaves on the strand With the cards that Ah Sin had been hiding
In the game “he did not understand.”
BACHELOR'S HALL, what a comical place it is!
Keep me from such all the days of my life! Sure but he knows what a burning disgrace it is,
Never at all to be getting a wife. See the old bachelor, gloomy and sad enough,
Fussing around while he's making his fire; His kettle has tipt up,och, honey, he's mad enough,
If he were present, to fight with the squire ! Pots, dishes, and pans, and such other com
modities, Ashes and praty-skins, kiver the floor; His cupboard a storehouse of comical oddities,
Things never thought of as neighbors before. When his mealitis over, the table's left sittin' so ;
Dishes, take care of yourselves if you can; Devil a drop of hot water will visit ye.
Och, let him alone for a baste of a man!
In his sleeves, which were long,
He had twenty-four packs – Which was coming it strong,
Yet I state but the facts. And we found on his nails, which were taper
What is frequent in tapers -- that's wax.
Now, like a pig in a mortar-bed wallowing. This Gineral great then tuck his sate,
See the old bachelor kneading his dough; With all the other ginerals,
And as he there, with princely air,
ring, Recloinin on his cushion was, Never the bit is his bed made at all;
All round about his royal chair, So he creeps like a terrapin under the kivering ;
The squeezin and the pushin was. Bad luck to the pictur of Bachelor's Hall !
| O Pat, such girls, such Jukes and Earls,
Just think of Tim, and fancy him
There was Lord De L'Huys,and the Portygeese GIVEN TO THE NEPAULESE AMBASSADOR BY THE PENINSULAR AND ORIENTAL COMPANY.
Ministher and his lady there,
And I reckonized, with much surprise, 0, WILL ye choose to hear the news ?
Our messmate, Bob O'Grady, there;
| There was Baroness Brunow, that looked like Juno, To the Naypaulase Ambassador.
And Baroness Rehausen there, Begor ! this fête all balls does bate,
| And Countess Roullier, that looked peculiar At which I worn a pump, and I
Well, in her robes of gauze in there. Must here relate the splendthor great
There was Lord Crowhurst (I knew him first Of th’Oriental Company.
When only Mr. Pips he was), These men of sinse dispoised expinse,
| And Mick O'Toole, the great big fool, To fête these black Achilleses.
That after supper tipsy was. “We'll show the blacks," says they, “Almack's, | There was Lord Fingall and his ladies all, And take the rooms at Willis's."
And Lords Killeen and Dufferin, With flags and shawls, for these Nepauls,
And Paddy Fife, with his fat wife, They hung the rooms of Willis up,
I wondther how he could stuff her in. And decked the walls and stairs and halls
There was Lord Belfast, that by me past, With roses and with lilies up.
And seemed to ask how should I go there? And Jullien's band it tuck its stand
And the Widow Macrae, and Lord A. Hay, So sweetly in the middle there,
And the Marchioness of Sligo there. And soft bassoons played heavenly chunes,
Yes, Jukes and Earls, and diamonds and pearls, And violins did fiddle there.
And pretty girls, was spoorting there ; And when the Coort was tired of spoort,
And some beside (the rogues !) I spied, I'd lave you, boys, to think there was
Behind the windies, coorting there. A nate buffet before them set,
0, there's one I know, bedad, would show Where lashins of good dhrink there was !
As beautiful as any there; At ten before the ball-room door,
And I'd like to hear the pipers blow, His moighty Excellency was ;
And shake a fut with Fanny there! He smoiled and bowed to all the crowd,
So gorgeous and immense he was.
A VERITABLE MYTH, TOUCHING THE CONSTELLATION
OF O'RYAN, IGNORANTLY AND FALSELY SPELLED ORION. The noble Chair stud at the stair,
O’RYAN was a man of might And bade the dthrums to thump ; and he
Whin Ireland was a nation, Did thus evince to that Black Prince
But poachin' was his heart's delight The welcome of his Company.
And constant occupation. O fair the girls, and rich the curls,
He had an ould militia gun, And bright the oys, you saw there, was ;
And sartin sure his aim was ; And fixed each oye, ye there could spoi,
He gave the keepers many a run, On Gineral Jung Bahawther was !
And would n't mind the game laws.
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.
He weeps o'er the modern corruption,
Compared with the good old times,
With the Upper Jura limes !
The hoary old Plesiosaurus
Does naught but quaff and roar;
Flew drunk to his own front door!
The Iguanodon of the Period
Grows worse with every stratum ;
Whenever he can get at 'em !
St. Pathrick wanst was passin' by
O'Ryan's little houldin',
He thought he'd enther bould in. “O'Ryan,” says the saint, “avick!
To praich at Thurles I 'm goin'; So let me have a rasher quick,
And a dhrop of Innishowen." “No rasher will I cook for you
While betther is to spare, sir,
And there's a rattlin' hare, sir."
And says he, “Good luck attind you,
It's up to heaven I'll sind you." O'Ryan gave his pipe a whiff, —
" Them tidin's is thransportin', But may I ax your saintship if
There 's any kind of sportin'?”. St. Pathrick said, “A Lion's there,
Two Bears, a Bull, and Cancer" — “ Bedad,” says Mick, “the huntin 's rare;
St. Pathrick, I'm your man, sir.” So, to conclude my song aright,
For fear I'd tire your patience,
Amid the constellations.
Till Mars grows jealous raally,
Of handling the shillaly.
I feel a catastrophe coming;
This epoch will soon be done,
If such goings-on go on?
The groaning Ichthyosaurus
Turns suddenly chalky pale ;
He writhes with his dying tail !
In that self-same hour and minute
Died the whole Saurian stem, –
Soon put'an end to them !
And the poet found their story
Which here he doth indite,
ROSSITER W. RAYMOND.
CHARLES G. HALPINE.
TO THE PLIOCENE SKULL.
SONG OF THE ICHTHYOSAURUS.
[This curious specimen of German scientific humor refers to the
A GEOLOGICAL ADDRESS. close of the Jurassic (or Liassic) period and the beginning of the Cretaceous, and describes the sad forebodings of a venerable Sau.
("A human skull has been found in California, in the pliocene for rian, who sees in the degeneracy of the times a sign of the coming
mation. This skull is the remnant, not only of the earliest pioneer cataclysm.
of this State, but the oldest known human being. . . . . The skull The translator says. “ Among the many extraordinary liberties
was found in a shaft one hundred and fifty feet deep, two miles which we have felt obliged to take with the letter of the original, in from Angel's, in Calaveras County, by a miner named James Matorder to preserve as far as possible its spirit and its flowing move-son, who gave it to Mr. Scribner, a inerchant, and he gave it to Dr. ment, the most violent is the substitution in the last stanza but one,
Te the substitution in the last stanza but one. Jones, who sent it to the State Geological Survey..... The pub. of an entirely new (and poor) joke for the very neat, but untrans. | lished volume of the State Survey on the Geology of California latable you of the Gerinan. The last two lines of the stanza are : states that man existed contemporaneously with the mastodon, but "Sie kamen zu tief in die Kreide ;
this fossil proves that he was here before the mastodon was known
to exist." — Daily Paper.) Da war es natürlich vorbei. The literal meaning is, They got too deep in the chalk, and it was, of course, all up with them. The allusion is to the score
| “SPEAK, Oman, less recent! Fragmentary fossil ! chalked up by a landlord against some bibulous but impecunious customer; and the notion that the Saurians ran up so large an ac.
Hid in lowest drifts below the earliest stratum count for drinks that the chalk required to mark their indebtedness smothered the whole race, and brought on the Cretaceous or chalk
Of Volcanic tufa! period, is so absurdly funny that it is a pity to sacrifice it.")
THERE's a rustling in the rushes,.
There's a flashing in the sea,
Swims hither mournfully!
Older than the beasts, the oldest Palæotherium ;
Of earth's epidermis !
But, sure, I think that I can drink
The tail of the steed pointed south on the dale, With any that wears a hood.
’T was the friar's road home, straight and Though I go bare, take ye no care ;
level; I am nothing a-cold,
But, when spurred, a horse follows his nose, not I stuff my skin so full within
his tail, Of jolly good ale and old.
So he scampered due north, like a devil : Back and side go bare, go bare ;
“This new mode of docking,” the friar then said, Both foot and hand go cold;
“I perceive does n't make a horse trot ill; But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, And’t is cheap, — for he never can eat off his head Whether it be new or old !
While I am engaged at the bottle,
Which goes gluggity, gluggity - glug I love no roast but a nut-brown toast,
- glug - glug.”
The steed made a stop, — in a pond he had got, No frost nor show, nor wind, I trow,
He was rather for drinking than grazing; Can hurt me if I wold, –
Quoth the friar, “'T is strange headless horses I am so wrapt, and thorowly lapt
should trot, Of jolly good ale and old.
But to drink with their tails is amazing!" Back and side go bare, go bare, etc.
Turning round to see whence this phenomenon
rose, And Tyb, my wife, that as her life
In the pond fell this son of a pottle ; Loveth well good ale to seek,
Quoth he,“ The head 's found, for I'm under his Full oft drinks she, till you may see
nose, The tears run down her cheek;
I wish I were over a bottle, Then doth she trowl to me the bowl,
Which goes gluggity, gluggity — glug Even as a malt-worm should ;
- glug - glug." And saith, “Sweetheart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old.”
ODE FOR A SOCIAL MEETING.
Good ale doth bring men to ;
COME! fill a fresh bumper, for why should we Or have them lustily trowled,
go God save the lives of them and their wives,
logwood Whether they be young or old !
While the Hertar still reddens our cups as they Back and side go bare, go bare;
flow! Both foot and hand go
Pour out the rich jhiees still bright with the sun, But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
dye-stuff Whether be now or old !
Till o'er the brimmed crystal the rubies shall run. JOHN STILL
The purple stebert elusters their life-dews have
How sweet is the breath of the fragrihen they shett!
rank polsons A JOLLY fat friar loved liquor good store, For summer's best wes lie hid in the wintes And he had drunk stoutly at supper;
stable boys smoking long-nines He mounted his horse in the night at the door,
That were garnered by maidens who taughted And sat with his face to the crupper:
Hrough the vizes. “Some rogne," quoth the friar, “quite dead to remorse,
WITH SLIGHT ALTERATIONS BY A TEETOTALER.
sugar of lead
Then a guile, anda adatti, and a trest, and a etreer, Some thief, whom a halter will throttle,
strychnine and whiskey, and ratsbane and beer Some scoundrel has cut off the head of my horse, For all the guest wint, Aht he've note of it here ! While I was engaged at the bottle,
In cellar, in pantry, in attie, in hall,
Down, down with the tyrant that masters us all 1
- glug - glug."
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.