s Standish,
Or young Phil Sheridan.

Sternwards he rushed,--I, ducking,
Seized both his legs, and chucking
Dobbs sideways, splash he went,--
The wherry swayed, then righted,
While I, somewhat excited,
Over the water bent;
Three times he rose, but vainly
I clutched his form ungainly,
He sank, while sighs and sobs
Beneath the waves seemed muttered,
And all the night-winds uttered
In sad tones, "Dobbs! Dobbs! Dobbs!"

Just then some giant boulders
Upon my head and shoulders
Made sudden, fearful raids,
And on my face and forehead,
With din and uproar horrid,
Came several Palisades;
I screamed, and woke, in screaming,
To see, by gaslight's gleaming,
Brown's face above my bed;
"Why, Jack, what is the matter?
We heard a dreadful clatter
And found you on the shed!

"It's plain enough, supposing
You sat there, moon-struck, dozing,
Upon the window's edge,
Then lost yourself, and falling,
Just where we found you, sprawling,
Struck the piazza ledge;
A lucky hit, old fellow,
Of black and blue and yellow
It gives your face a touch,
You saved your neck, but barely;
To state the matter fairly,
You took a drop too much!"

I took the train next morning,
Some lumps my nose adorning,
My forehead, sundry knobs,
My ideas slightly wandering,
But, as I went, much pondering
Upon my night with Dobbs;
Brown thinks it, dear old sinner,
A case of "after dinner,"
And won't believe a word,
Talks of "hallucination,"
"Laws of association,"
And calls my tale "absurd."

Perhaps it is, but never,
Say I, should we dissever
Old places and old names;
Guard the old landmarks truly,
On the old altars duly
Keep bright the ancient flames.
For me the face of Nature,
No luckless nomenclature
Of grace or beauty robs;
No, when of town I weary,
I'll make a strike in Erie,
And buy a place at DOBBS!

--_Poems._

JOHN WILLIAM DE FOREST.

(BORN, 1826.)

* * * * *

FATHER HIGGINS'S PREFERMENT.

Father Higgins was not the kind of divine who easily finds preferment in
the Catholic Church, or who would be apt to make a shining mark in any
other.

Fat and red-faced and pudding-headed was Father Higgins; uncommonly in
the way of good eating, and now and then disposed for good drinking; as
lazy as he dared be, ignorant enough for a he