e ancients like my rusty lay,
As Grandpa Noah loved the old
Red-sandstone march of Jubal's day
I used to carol like the birds,
But time my wits has quite unfixed,
Et quoad verba,--for my words,--
Ciel! Eheu! Whe-ew!--how they're mixed!

Mehercle! Zeu! Diable! how
My thoughts were dressed when I was young
But tempus fugit! see them now
Half clad in rags of every tongue!
O philoi, fratres, chers amis!
I dare not court the youthful Muse,
For fear her sharp response should be,
"Papa Anacreon, please excuse!"

Adieu! I've trod my annual track
How long!--let others count the miles,--
And peddled out my rhyming pack
To friends who always paid in smiles.
So, laissez-moi! some youthful wit
No doubt has wares he wants to show;
And I am asking, "Let me sit,"
Dum ille clamat, "Dos pou sto!"

THE ROSE ROLLINS.

PART II.

"It was a Sunday evening that was coming on, you see, and there was a
full moon, and all the willagers would be out to church, because there
was a rewival a-going on, and, thinks says I, he'll walk into his sleep,
like as not, and he'll be wisible to one and he'll be wisible to all,
and I must adopt the adwice that's been adwised me, whether it's quite
adwisable or not; so I gets the clothes-line, and I cuts off about five
yards, and I slips it under my piller before I goes to--before I retires
to rest. The clothes-line was a new hempen one, and strong as could be.
Well, he was no sooner asleep than up I riz, and slips the line from
under my piller, and I ties my arm to his'n with a knot that couldn't be
ontied easy. And now, thinks says I to myself, you get away and walk
into your sleep if you can! But you'll see directly that I was adwised
bad.

"Just as the meetin' folks was a-goin' home, I, bein' about half asleep,
feels somethin' pullin' and pullin' onto my arm, and says I, 'Let go!'
and nothin' answered, and then says I, 'Let go, I tell you!' and, bless
you! I had no more than got the words out of my mouth when down I comes
onto the floor, piller and all! I knowed then, right away, what was the
matter,--he was a-walkin' into his sleep. 'O, stop,' says I, 'just for a
minute, till I ontie myself!'

"'Divel a bit!' says he, and with that he strode off, and me headlong at
his heels!"

"My little wentersome one!" says John; and finding that that but very
inadequately expressed wha