Here She Goes, and There She Goes 575 She is his darling, and who knows But-" "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, run, run,— The doctors came, and looked, and wondered, "No, leeched you mean," the other said, The next would an emetic urge; A certain cure for earthly ills: 66 Quoth he, and wretched was her plight, Three dozen patent pills I gave her; And by to-morrow I suppose That "Here she goes, and there she goes!" "You are all fools!" the lady said. "The way is just to shave his head. Run! bid the barber come anon." 66 Thanks, mother!" thought her clever son; "You help the knaves that would have bit me, But all creation sha'n'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!" A queerish 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, cup him,"-" 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 will win the race; The clock is on the stroke of nine, And up he starts,-" "Tis mine! 'tis mine!" "I mean the fifty; "Who?" "The gentlemen,-I mean the two James Nack. THE QUAKER'S MEETING A TRAVELLER wended the wilds among, With a purse of gold and a silver tongue; His hat it was broad, and all drab were his clothes, And he met with a lady, the story goes. Heigho! yea thee and nay thee. The Quaker's Meeting The damsel she cast him a merry blink, And the traveller nothing was loth, I think, Her merry black eye beamed her bonnet beneath, 577 And the Quaker, he grinned, for he'd very good teeth, 66 I hope you'll protect me, kind sir," said the maid, "As to ride this heath over, I'm sadly afraid; For robbers, they say, here in numbers abound, And I wouldn't for anything I should be found, For, between you and me, I have five hundred pound." "If that is thee own, dear," the Quaker, he said, The maiden she smil'd, and her rein she drew, The damsel she ripped up the saddle-bow, "The spirit doth move me, friend Broadbrim," quoth she, "To take all this filthy temptation from thee, For Mammon deceiveth, and beauty is fleeting, "And hark! jolly Quaker, so rosy and sly, "Friend James," quoth the Quaker, "pray listen to me, To make it appear I my trust did defend. "So fire a few shots thro' my clothes, here and there, To make it appear 'twas a desp'rate affair." So Jim he popp'd first through the skirt of his coat, And then through his collar-quite close to his throat; "Now one thro' my broadbrim," quoth Ephraim, "I vote." "I have but a brace," said bold Jim, " and they're spent, And I won't load again for a make-believe rent."— "Then!" said Ephraim, producing his pistols, "just give My five hundred pounds back, or, as sure as you live, I'll make of your body a riddle or sieve." Jim Barlow was diddled-and, tho' he was game, He saw Ephraim's pistol so deadly in aim, That he gave up the gold, and he took to his scrapers, They said that "the thieves were no match for the Quakers." Samuel Lover. THE JESTER CONDEMNED TO DEATH ONE of the Kings of Scanderoon, A royal jester Had in his train, a gross buffoon, Who used to pester The court with tricks inopportune, Scurvy pleasantries and hoaxes. The Jester Condemned to Death It needs some sense to play the fool, Occurred not to our jackanapes, Some sin, at last, beyond all measure Of his Serene and raging Highness: Or had intruded on the shyness An epigram at royalty, None knows: his sin was an occult one, Exclaimed, ""Tis time to stop that breath; "Silence, base rebel! no replying! But such is my indulgence still, I'll die, so please you, of old age!" 579 Horace Smith. |