"The Doctor's as drunk as the d-," we said, And we managed a shutter to borrow;

We raised him, and sigh'd at the thought that his head Would consumedly ache on the morrow.

We bore him home, and we put him to bed,
And we told his wife and his daughter
To give him, next morning, a couple of red
Herrings, with soda water.

Loudly they talk'd of his money that's gone,
And his lady began to upbraid him;

But little he reck'd, so they let him snore on
'Neath the counterpane just as we laid him.

We tuck'd him in, and had hardly done,
When, beneath the window calling,
We heard the rough voice of a son-of-a-gun
Of a watchman, "One o'clock," bawling.

Slowly and sadly we all walk'd down

From his room in the uppermost story;
A rushlight we placed on the cold hearth-stone,
And we left him alone in his glory.

Hos ego versiculos feci, tulit alter honores.-Virgil.

THE COUNTRY WEDDING.

UNKNOWN.

From "Ritson's English Songs," 1783.

We lovely young shepherdess crossing the plain;

́ELL met, pretty nymph, says a jolly young swain,

Why so much in haste? (Now the month it was May) Shall I venture to ask you, fair maiden, which way?

Then strait to this question the nymph did reply,
With a smile on her look, and a leer on her eye,
I came from the village, and homeward I go;
And now, gentle shepherd, pray why would you know?

I hope, pretty maid, you wont take it amiss,

If I tell you the reason of asking you this;

I would see you safe home (the swain was in love),
Of such a companion if you would approve.

Your offer, kind shepherd, is civil I own,
But see no great danger in going alone;
Nor yet can I hinder, the road being free
For one as another, for you as for me.

No danger in going alone, it is true,

But yet a companion is pleasanter, too;

And if you could like (now the swain he took heart) Such a sweetheart as me, we never would part.

O! that's a long word, said the shepherdess then; I've often heard say, there's no minding you men: You'll say and unsay, and you'll flatter, 't is true; Then leave a young maiden, the first thing you do.

O, judge not so harshly, the shepherd replied;
To prove what I say, I will make you my bride;
To-morrow the parson (well said, little swain)
Shall join both our hands, and make one of us twain.

Then what the nymph answer'd to this, is not said;
The very next morn, to be sure, they were wed.
Sing hey diddle, ho diddle, hey diddle down,
Now when shall we see such a wedding in town!

ROBERT HERRICK, 1591-1674.

1

The Christmas log to the firing;

While my good dame, she

Bids ye all be free,

And drink to your heart's desiring.

With the last year's brand1
Light the new block, and
For good success in his spending,
On your psalteries play,

That sweet luck may

Come while the log is a teending.2

Drink now the strong beer,
Cut the white loaf here,
The while the meat is a shredding
For the rare mince-pie,

And the plums standing by,

To fill the paste that's a kneading.

A portion of the log used to be preserved until the next year, with which

to light the new block, and the omission to do so was deemed unlucky.

TO THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET.

LEIGH HUNT, 1784-1859.

G

Charles Cowden Clarke relates how during a visit paid by Keats and himself to Leigh Hunt, December 30, 1816, the host proposed to Keats "the challenge of writing then, there, and to time," a sonnet "On the Grasshopper and the Cricket." The following sonnet, and that on the opposite page, were the result of their friendly strife.

REEN little vaulter in the sunny grass,
Catching your heart up at the feel of June,
Sole voice that 's heard amidst the lazy noon,
When even the bees lag at the summoning brass;
And you, warm little housekeeper, who class
With those who think the candles come too soon,
Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tune
Nick the glad silent moments as they pass;
Oh, sweet and tiny cousins, that belong,

One to the fields, the other to the hearth,

Both have your sunshine; both though small are strong

At your clear hearts; and both were sent on earth

To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song:

In doors and out, summer and winter, Mirth.