s an inlet called Freycinet's
Harbour. The country in this neighbourhood much resembles the western
coast.

* * * * *

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS

* * * * *

THE AIR BALLOON.

IN LAUDEM BULLAE AERO-NAUTICAE.

They may talk as they will
Of their steam-engine skill,
But, as sure as the sun shines at noon,
Straps, boilers, and springs
Are a wagon to wings,
Compared with the air-balloon.

If you're troubled with taxes,
You cross the Araxes,
Or fly to the plains of Hairoun;
In the height of the summer,
Cool as a cucumber,
You sit in your air-balloon.

The ladies, poor souls!
Once sent sighs to the poles;
We may now send the sighers as soon:
Painted canvass and gas
Whisk away with the lass,
In the car of the air-balloon.

Our girls of fifteen
Will disdain Gretna Green,
The old coupler must soon cobble shoon;
With a wink to the captain,
The beauties are wrapt in
The car of the air-balloon.

Old fathers and mothers,
Grim uncles and brothers,
May hunt them from Janu'ry to June;
They are oft to the stars,
And in Venus or Mars
You may spy out their air-balloon

Your makers of rhyme
May at last grow sublime,
Inspired by a touch at the moon;
And lawyers may rise
For once to the skies,
In the car of the air-balloon.

Your ministers, soaring,
May shun all the boring
Of country and city baboon--
Or, like ministers' spouses,
Look down on both Houses--
From the car of the air-balloon.

The sweet six months' widow
Her weeds will abide, O,
No longer, nor cry "'Tis too soon!"
But range the skies over,
In search of a lover,
In the car of the air balloon.

If you wish for a singe-a
In Afric or India,
Or long for an Esquimaux' tune,
Or wish to go snacks
With the king of the blacks,--
Why,--call for your air-balloon.

If, on Teneriffe's Peak,
You'd wish for a steak,
Or dip in Vesuvius your spoon,
Or slip all the dog-days,
The rain-days, and fog-days,--
Go, call for your air-balloon.

Your doctors of physic
May banish the phthisic.
Your cook give you ice-creams in June--
If a dun's in the wind,
You may leave him behind,
And be off in your air-balloon.

On the top of the Andes,
Who's tortur'd wi