ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL A FRIEND of mine was married to a scold, 66 "That was well," said I; "No, not so well," said he; "For I and her own brother Went to law with one another; I was cast, the suit was lost, And every penny went to pay the cost." "That was bad," said I; "No, not so bad," said he: "For we agreed that he the house should keep, And give to me four score of Yorkshire sheep All fat, and fair, and fine, they were to be." "Well, then," said I, sure that was well for thee?" "No, not so well," said he; "For, when the sheep I got, They every one died of the rot." "That was bad," said I; "No, not so bad," said he; "For I had thought to scrape the fat And keep it in an oaken vat; Then into tallow melt for winter store." "Well, then," said I, "that's better than before?" ""Twas not so well," said he; "For having got a clumsy fellow To scrape the fat and melt the tallow; Into the melting fat the fire catches, And, like brimstone matches, Burnt my house to ashes." "That was bad," said I; "No! not so bad," said he; " for, what is best, My scolding wife has gone among the rest." Unknown. The Contrast THE CONTRAST IN London I never know what I'd be at, But the country, Lord help me! sets all matters right, 265 In town, if it rain, why it damps not our hope, In the country, what bliss, when it rains in the fields, In town, we've no use for the skies overhead, In the country, these planets delightfully glare, But 'tis in the country alone we can find Indeed I must own, 'tis a pleasure complete When we capture, in triumph, two toads and an eel? I have heard though, that love in a cottage is sweet, When two hearts in one link of soft sympathy meet; That's to come-for as yet I, alas! am a swain, Who require, I own it, more links to my chain. In the country, if Cupid should find a man out, In town let me live then, in town let me die, THE DEVONSHIRE LANE IN a Devonshire lane as I trotted along In the first place, 'tis long, and when once you are in it, But though 'tis so long, it is not very wide, And e'en there 'tis a chance but they get in a pother, Old Poverty greets them with mendicant looks, A Splendid Fellow Then the banks are so high, both to left hand and right, 267 But, thinks I, too, these banks within which we are pent, In the rock's gloomy crevice the bright holly grows, And the evergreen love of a virtuous wife Smooths the roughness of care-cheers the winter of life. Then long be the journey and narrow the way; John Marriott. A SPLENDID FELLOW DELMONICO'S is where he dines On quail on toast, washed down with wines; With quite a flourish at the bar. He throws his money down so proud, A dozen games of billiards, too, Oh, he's a splendid fellow, quite; But when this splendid fellow's wife, That she, alarmed at his distress, IF If a man could live a thousand years, He might, by strict economy, A fortune have amassed. Then having gained some common-sense, He could select the woman who But as it is, man hasn't time The woman whom he gets. H. C. Dodge. ACCEPTED AND WILL APPEAR ONE evening while reclining In my easy-chair, repining O'er the lack of true religion, and the dearth of common sense, A solemn visaged lady, Who was surely on the shady Side of thirty, entered proudly, and to crush me did com mence: |