great quadrennial scrambles.' Professor Lowell was born at Boston in 1819, and he fills the chair of Belles-Lettres in Harvard University. As a poet and humorist, he occupies a high position in America and Great Britain.

I Du believe in Freedom's cause,
Ez fur away ez Paris is ;

I love to see her stick her claws
In them infarnal Pharisees;
It's wal enough agin a king

To dror resolves an' triggers,-
But libbaty's a kind o' thing

Thet don't agree with niggers.

I du believe the people want
A tax on teas an' coffees,
Thet nothin' aint extravygunt,—
Purvidin' I'm in office;

Fer I hev loved my country sence

My eye-teeth fill'd their sockets,
An' Uncle Sam I reverence,
Partic❜larly his pockets

I du believe in any plan

O' levyin' the taxes,

Ez long ez, like a lumberman,
I git jest wut I axes:

I go free-trade thru thick an' thin,

Because it kind o' rouses

The folks to vote,-an' keeps us in
Our quiet custom-houses.

E

I du believe it's wise an' good

To sen' out furrin missions. Thet is, on sartin understood An' orthydox conditions ;— I mean nine thousan' dolls. per ann., Nine thousan' more fer outfit, An' me to recommend a man The place 'ould jest about fit.

I du believe in special ways

O' prayin' an' convartin';

The bread comes back in many days,
An' butter'd, tu, fer sartin ;—
I mean in preyin' till one busts
On wut the party chooses,
An' in convartin' public trusts
To very privit uses.

I du believe hard coin the stuff
Fer 'lectioneers to spout on;
The people's ollers soft enough

To make hard money out on ;
Dear Uncle Sam pervides fer his,
An' gives a good-sized junk to all,-
I don't care how hard money is
Ez long ez mine's paid punctooal.

I du believe with all my soul
In the gret Press's freedom,
To pint the people to the goal
An' in the traces lead 'em ;

Palsied the arm thet forges yokes
At my fat contracts squintin',
An' wither'd be the nose thet pokes
Inter the gov'ment printin'!

I du believe thet I should give
Wut's his'n unto Cæsar,

Fer it's by him I move an' live,
Frum him my bread an' cheese air;
I du believe thet all o' me

Doth bear his souperscription,-
Will, conscience, honour, honesty,
An' things o' thet description.

I du believe in prayer an' praise
To him thet hez the grantin'
O' jobs,-in everythin' thet pays,
But most of all in CANTIN' ;
This doth my cup with marcies fill,

This lays all thought o' sin to rest,

I don't believe in princerple,

But, oh, I du in interest.

I du believe in bein' this

Or thet, ez it may happen One way or t' other hendiest is

To ketch the people nappin' ; It aint by princerples nor men

My preudunt course is steadied,I scent wich pays the best, an' then Go into it baldheaded.

I du believe thet holdin' slaves

Comes nat❜ral tu a Presidunt,
Let 'lone the rowdedow it saves
To hev a wal-broke precedunt;
Fer any office, small or gret,
I couldn't ax with no face,
Without I'd ben, thru dry an' wet,
Th' unrizzest kind o' doughface.

I du believe wutever trash

'll keep the people in blindness, Thet we the Mexicuns can thrash

Right inter brotherly kindness,

Thet bombshells, grape, an' powder 'n' ball Air good-will's strongest magnets,

Thet peace, to make it stick at all,

Must be druv in with bagnets.

In short, I firmly du believe

In Humbug generally,

Fer it's a thing thet I perceive

To hev a solid vally;

This heth my faithful shepherd ben,

In pasturs sweet heth led me, An' this'll keep the people green

To feed ez they hev fed me.

WORMS.

ALEXANDER POPE.

The following lines were addressed by Alexander Pope, Author of the Dunciad, Essay on Man, etc., to 'The Ingenious Mr. Moore, inventor of the celebrated worm powder.'

How much, egregious Moore, are we
Deceived by shows and forms?
Whate'er we think, whate'er we see,
All human race are worms.

Man is a very worm by birth,
Proud reptile, vile and vain,
Awhile he crawls upon the earth,
Then shrinks to earth again.

That woman is a worm, we find,
E'er since our grannum's evil;
She first conversed with her own kind,
That ancient worm, the Devil.

The fops are painted butterflies,

That flutter for a day;

First from a worm they took their rise,

Then in a worm decay.

The flatterer an ear-wig grows,

Some worms suit all conditions;

Misers are muck-worms; silk-worms, beaus,

And death-watches, physicians.

That statesmen have a worm, is seen

By all their winding play;