nger shall appear.
Art thou the Wandering Jew?"

"The Wandering Jew, thou dotard!"
The wondrous phantom cried--
"'Tis several centuries ago
Since that poor stripling died.
He would not use my nostrums--
See, shaveling, here they are!
_These_ put to flight all human ills,
These conquer death--unfailing pills,
And I'm the inventor, PARR!"

Tarquin and the Augur.

Gingerly is good King Tarquin shaving.
Gently glides the razor o'er his chin,
Near him stands a grim Haruspex raving,
And with nasal whine he pitches in
Church extension hints,
Till the monarch squints,
Snicks his chin, and swears--a deadly sin!

"Jove confound thee, thou bare-legged impostor!
From my dressing-table get thee gone!
Dost thou think my flesh is double Glo'ster?
There again! That cut was to the bone!
Get ye from my sight;
I'll believe you're right,
When my razor cuts the sharpening hone!"

Thus spoke Tarquin with a deal of dryness;
But the Augur, eager for his fees,
Answered--"Try it, your Imperial Highness;
Press a little harder, if you please.
There! the deed is done!"
Through the solid stone
Went the steel as glibly as through cheese.

So the Augur touched the tin of Tarquin,
Who suspected some celestial aid;
But he wronged the blameless gods; for hearken!
Ere the monarch's bet was rashly laid,
With his searching eye
Did the priest espy
ROGERS' name engraved upon the blade.

La Mort d'Arthur,

NOT BY ALFRED TENNYSON.

Slowly, as one who bears a mortal hurt,
Through which the fountain of his life runs dry,
Crept good King Arthur down unto the lake.
A roughening wind was bringing in the waves
With cold dull plash and plunging to the shore,
And a great bank of clouds came sailing up
Athwart the aspect of the gibbous moon,
Leaving no glimpse save starlight, as he sank,
With a short stagger, senseless on the stones.

No man yet knows how long he lay in swound;
But long enough it was to let the rust
Lick half the surface of his polished shield;
For it was made by far inferior hands,
Than forged his helm, his breastplate, and his greaves,
Whereon no canker lighted, for they bore
The magic stamp of MECHI'S SILVER STEEL.

Jupiter and the Indian Ale.

"Take away this clammy nectar!"
Said the king of gods and men;
"Never at Olympus' table
Let that trash be served again.
Ho, Lyaeus, thou the b