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Hold," said the Yankee, "plank the ready!"

The landlord wagged his fingers steady,

While his left hand, as well as able,
Conveyed a purse upon the table.
"Tom, with the money let's be off!"
This only made the landlord scoff;

He heard them running down the stair,
But was not tempted from his chair;
Thought he, "The fools! I'll bite them yet!
So poor a trick shan't win the bet."
And loud and loud the chorus rose
Of "here she goes-and there she goes!"
While right and left his finger swung,
In keeping to his clock and tongue.

His mother happened in, to see
Her daughter; "Where is Mrs. B—;
When will she come, as you suppose?

"Here she goes-and there she goes!"
"Here! where?"-the lady in surprise
His finger followed with her eyes;
"Son, why that steady gaze and sad?
Those words that motion-are you mad?
But here's your wife-perhaps she knows,
And "

"Here she goes--and there she goes!"

His wife surveyed him with alarm,
And rushed to him and seized his arm;
He shook her off, and to and fro

His finger persevered to go,

While curled his very nose with ire,

That she against him should conspire,

And with more furious tone arose

The "here she goes-and there she goes!"

"Lawks!" screamed the wife, "I'm in a whirl!
Run down and bring the little girl;




She is his darling, and who knows


"Here she goes-and there she goes!"

"Lawks! he is mad! What made him thus?

Good Lord! what will become of us?
Run for a doctor-run-
For Doctor Brown, and Doctor Dun,
And Doctor Black, and Doctor White,
And Doctor Grey, with all your might."

The doctors came, and looked and wondered,
And shook their heads, and paused and pondered,
Till one proposed he should be bled;
"No-leeched you mean," the other said—
"Clap on a blister," roared another,
"No-cup him "-"No-trepan him, brother!"
A sixth would recommend a purge,

The next would an emetic urge,

The eighth, just come from a dissection,

His verdict gave for an injection;

The last produced a box of pills,

A certain cure for earthly ills:
"I had a patient yesternight,"

Quoth he," and wretched was her plight,
And as the only means to save her,

Three dozen patent pills I gave her,

And by to-morrow, I suppose


"Here she goes—and there she goes!"

"You all are fools," the lady said,
"The way is, just to shave his head;

Run, bid the barber come anon


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Thanks, mother," thought her clever son,

"You help the knaves that would have bit me,

But all creation shan't outwit me!"

Thus to himself, while to and fro

His finger perseveres to go,


And from his lips no accent flows,

But "here she goes-and there she goes!"

The barber came-" Lord help him! what
A queer customer I've got;

But we must do our best to save him

So hold him, gemmen, while I shave him!"
But here the doctors interpose-

"A woman never

"There she goes!"


"A woman is no judge of physic,

Not even when her baby is sick.

He must be bled "-" No-no-a blister

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"A purge you mean "I say a clyster ".

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“No-cup him ”—“ leech him "—" pills! pills! pills!" And all the house the uproar fills.

What means that smile? What means that shiver?

The landlord's limbs with rapture quiver,

And triumph brightens up his face—

His finger yet shall win the race!

The clock is on the stroke of nine

And up he starts-" "Tis mine! 'tis mine!"
"What do you mean?"


"I mean the fifty!

I never spent an hour so thrifty;
you, who tried to make me lose,
Go, burst with envy, if you choose!
Where are they?"

But, how is this?


"The gentlemen-I mean the two
Came yesterday-are they below?"
"They galloped off an hour ago."
"Oh, purge me! blister! shave and bleed!
For, hang the knaves, I'm mad indeed!"




SHOULD be surprised, indeed, if, while you are doing us wrong, you did not profess your solicitude to do us justice. From the day on which Strongbow set his foot upon the shore of Ireland, Englishmen were never wanting in protestations of their deep anxiety to do us justice;-even Strafford, the deserter of the People's cause, the renegade Wentworth, who gave evidence in Ireland of the spirit of instinctive tyranny which predominated in his character,-even Strafford, while he trampled upon our rights and trod upon the heart of the country, protested his solicitude to do justice to Ireland! What marvel is it, then, that gentlemen opposite should deal in such vehement protestations? There is, however, one man of great abilities,—not a member of this House, but whose talents and whose boldness have placed him in the topmost place in his party,-who, disdaining all imposture, and thinking it the best course to appeal directly to the religious and national antipathies of the People of this country,-abandoning all reserve, and flinging off the slender veil by which his political associates affect to cover, although they cannot hide, their motives, distinctly and audaciously tells the Irish People that they are not entitled to the same privileges as Englishmen; and pronounces them, in any particular which could enter his minute enumeration of the circumstances by which fellow-citizenship is created, in race, identity, and religion, to be aliens ;-to be aliens in race, to be aliens in country, to be aliens in religion ! Aliens! good God! was Arthur, Duke of Wellington, in the House of Lords,---and did he not start up and exclaim, “HOLD! I HAVE SEEN THE ALIENS DO THEIR DUTY!" The Duke of Wellington is not a man of an excitable temperament. His mind is of a cast too martial to be easily moved; but, notwithstanding his habitual inflexibility, I cannot help thinking that, when he heard his Roman Catholic countrymen (for we are his countrymen) designated by a phrase as offensive as the abundant vocabulary of his eloquent confederate could supply,-I cannot help thinking that he ought to have recollected the many fields of fight in which we have been contributors to his renown. "The battles, sieges, fortunes that he has passed," ought to have come back upon him.



He ought to have remembered that, from the earliest achievement in which he displayed that military genius which has placed him foremost in the annals of modern warfare, down to that last and surpassing combat which has made his name imperishable,-from Assaye to Waterloo,-the Irish soldiers, with whom your armies are filled, were the inseparable auxiliaries to the glory with which his unparalleled successes have been crowned. Whose were the arms that drove your bayonets at Vimiéra through the phalanxes that never reeled in the shock of war before? What desperate valor climbed the steeps and filled the moats at Badajos? All his victories should have rushed and crowded back upon his memory,—Vimiéra, Badajos, Salamanca, Albuéra, Toulouse, and, last of all, the greatest Tell me,--for you were there,——I appeal to the gallant soldier before me (Sir Henry Hardinge), from whose opinions I differ, but who bears, I know, a generous heart in an intrepid breast;-tell me,--for you must needs remember,--on that day when the destinies of mankind were trembling in the balance, while death fell in showers, when the artillery of France was levelled with a precision of the most deadly science, --when her legions, incited by the voice and inspired by the example of their mighty leader, rushed again and again to the onset, --tell me if, for an instant, when to hesitate for an instant was to be lost, the "aliens" blenched? And when, at length, the moment for the last and decided movement had arrived, and the valor which had so long been wisely checked was, at last, let loose,--when, with words familiar, but immortal, the great captain commanded the great assault,--tell me if Catholic Ireland with less heroic valor than the natives of this, your own glorious country, precipitated herself upon the foe? The blood of England, Scotland, and of Ireland, flowed in the same stream, and drenched the same field. When the chill morning dawned, their dead lay cold and stark together ;--in the same deep pit their bodies were deposited; the green corn of spring is now breaking from their commingled dust; the dew falls from Heaven upon their union in the grave. Partakers in every peril, in the glory shall we not be permitted to participate; and shall we be told, as a requital, that we are estranged from the noble country for whose salvation our life-blood was poured out?

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