things as they
say--such--such--

It is too warm to-day to attempt superlatives. It were better to
drink--say, iced lemonade, in which--for you, dear reader--by some
mistake a _little_ sherry has been cobblered. _Sherrare est humanum_.
The Rabbis, we are told, forbade the children of Israel to puff the fire
on the Sabbath with bellows, though they might keep it going by blowing
through a straw. Wherefore, to this day, certain of the devout 'keep it
a-going' by means of a straw--only by some strange mistake in
interpretation, or by some vowel-points getting mislaid, they, instead
of blowing _from_ them in the straw, suck _toward_ them. And their
'society' is a large one.

But we were talking of 'good company,' as they say in 'good
society'--not of 'good society,' as they say in 'good company.' And,
therefore, although _not_ 'a retired clergyman,' and devoutly hoping
that my 'sands of life' are not by a very long while 'run out,' (for I
want to see my future friends,) I would yet (without these advantages)
offer you 'some slight relief,' and would seek to assuage your
sufferings resulting from too much good company; and since we have so
few friends in the past who have amused us, turn we our 'regards' to the
possible

FRIENDS OF THE FUTURE.

First among whom is

BAGNOLE

Face such as would-be Byron youths all crave,
Impenetrable, gloomy as the grave;
Voice, a 'French-gray,' the promise of the face,
You'd swear he thought to _laugh_, a deep disgrace.
Behold the mask of a bacchantine soul,
Drinking deep draughts from life's enchanting bowl.
Whether the bowl be from Cellini's hand.
If rude, still crowning it with Fancy's flowers,
Laughing at Time, and flirting with her Hours.
He is not pious, and to church won't go;
He says he _can't_--'tis so extremely slow.'
Bagnole! with the 'goats' you're set apart'
And yet, how _can_ we wish a 'change of heart'
In one like thee--great-minded, brave, and true!
Ah! _what_ a world, if all were such as you!
But I forget--he's tender to the weak:
To the sad Magdalene he'll kindly speak
Words of _pure gold_--not that base metal thing
Which falls like lead and gives no friendly ring;
Opening the wound, to see if it is deep,
Arousing thought, to see if' tis asleep!
'Tendir and treue,' us Douglas was of old,
How far _they_ see, who call thee 'tame and cold'!
Tame! as a tiger: cold! as hot as flame!
_Where_ does he board, and