"Sir, if my judgment you'll allow-
I've seen, and sure I ought to know."
So begs you'd pay a due submission,
And acquiesce in his decision.

Two travellers of such a cast,
As o'er Arabia's wilds they pass'd,
And on their way, in friendly chat,
Now talked of this, and then of that
Discoursed awhile, 'mongst other matter,
Of the Chameleon's form and nature.
"A stranger animal," cries one,
"Sure never lived beneath the sun :
A lizard's body lean and long,
A fish's head, a serpent's tongue,
Its foot with triple claw disjoined,
And what a length of tail behind!
How slow its pace! and then its hue-
Who ever saw so fine a blue?"

"Hold there," the other quick replies, "'Tis green, I saw it with these eyes, As late with open mouth it lay, And warm'd it in the sunny ray, Stretch'd at its ease the beast I view'd And saw it eat the air for food." 66 I've seen it, sir, as well as you, And must again affirm it blue, At leisure I the beast survey'd Extended in the cooling shade."

"'Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye." "Green!" cries the other in a fury: "Why, sir, d'ye think I've lost my eyes?" "Twere no great loss," the friend replies; "For if they always serve you thus, You'll find them but of little use."

So high at last the contest rose, From words they almost came to blows;

When luckily came by a third;
To him the question they referred,
And begged he'd tell them, if he knew,
Whether the thing was green or blue.
"Sirs," cries the umpire,
pother;

cease your

The creature's neither one nor t'other.
I caught the animal last night,
And view'd it o'er by candle-light;
I mark'd it well, 'twas black as jet-
You stare-but, sirs, I've got it yet,
And can produce it." Pray, sir, do;
I'll lay my life the thing is blue."

"And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." "Well, then, at once to ease the doubt," Replies the man, "I'll turn him out; And when before your eyes I've set him, If you don't find him black, I'll eat him," He said; and full before their sight Produced the beast, and lo!-'twas white. Both stared; the man look'd wondrous wise"My children," the Chameleon cries (Then first the creature found a tongue), "You all are right, and all are wrong: When next you talk of what you view, Think others see as well as you; Nor wonder if you find that none Prefers your eye-sight to his own."

Merrick.

I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.

I

REMEMBER, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;

He never came a wink too soor,
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!

I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups-
Those flowers, made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birth-day,—
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember

Where I was used to swing,

And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers then,

That is so heavy now,

And summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember

The fir-trees dark and high;

I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky.

It was a childish ignorance,

But now 'tis little joy

To know I'm farther off from heaven

Than when I was a boy.

Hood.

THE PRIVATE OF THE BUFFS IN CHINA.

L

AST night, among his fellow roughs,

He jested, quaffed, and swore;

A drunken private of the Buffs,

Who never looked before;
To-day, beneath the foeman's frown,
He stands in Elgin's place,
Ambassador from Britain's crown,
And type of all her race.

Poor, reckless, rude, low born, untaught,
Bewildered and alone,

A heart with English instinct fraught
He yet can call his own.
Ay, tear his body limb from limb,
Bring cord, or axe, or flame;
He only knows, that not through him
Shall England come to shame.

For Kentish hop-fields round him seemed,
Like dreams, to come and go;
Bright leagues of cherry blossom gleamed,
One sheet of living snow;

The smoke above his father's door,

In grey soft eddyings hung;

Must he then watch it rise no more,

Doomed by himself, so young?

Yes, honour calls!—with strength like steel
He puts the vision by;

Let dusky Indians whine and kneel,

An English boy must die.

And then, with eyes that would not shrink,

With knee to man unbent,

Unfaltering on its dreadful brink,

To his red grave he went.

Vain, mightiest fleets of iron framed;
Vain those all-shattering guns:
Unless proud England keep, unstained,
The strong hearts of her sons.

So, let his name through Europe ring—
A man of mean estate,

Who died as firm as Sparta's king,

Because his soul was great.

Sir F. H. Doyle.

BETH-GELERT, OR THE GRAVE OF
THE GREYHOUND.

THE spearmen heard the bugle sound,

And cheerly smiled the morn;

And many a man, and many a hound,
Obeyed Llewelyn's horn.

And still he blew a louder blast,
And gave a lustier cheer,

66 Come, Gelert, come, wert never last
Llewelyn's horn to hear.

Oh where doth faithful Gelert roam,
The flower of all his race;

So true, so brave—a lamb at home,
A lion in the chase?"

'Twas only at Llewelyn's board
The faithful Gelert fed;

He watch'd, he serv'd, he cheer'd his lord,
And sentinel'd his bed.

In sooth he was a peerless hound,
The gift of royal John ;

But now no Gelert could be found,
And all the chase rode on.