mean," the other said,
"Clap on a blister!" roared another,--
"No! cup him,"--"No, trepan him, brother."
A sixth would recommend a purge,
The next would an emetic urge;
The last produced a box of pills,
A certain cure for earthly ills:
"I had a patient yesternight,"
Quoth he, "and wretched was her plight,
And as the only means to save her,
Three dozen patent pills I gave her;
And by to-morrow I suppose
That--"

_"Here she goes, and there she goes!"_

"You are all fools!" the lady said,--
"The way is just to shave his head.
Run! bid the barber come anon."
"Thanks, mother!" thought her clever son;
"You help the knaves that would have bit me,
But all creation sha'n't outwit me!"
Thus to himself while to and fro
His finger perseveres to go,
And from his lips no accent flows
But,--_"Here she goes, and there she goes!"_
The barber came--"Lord help him! what
A queerish customer I've got;
But we must do our best to save him,--
So hold him, gemmen, while I shave him!"
But here the doctors interpose,--
"A woman never--"

_"There she goes!"_

"A woman is no judge of physic,
Not even when her baby is sick.
He must be bled,"--"No, cup him,"--"Pills!"
And all the house the uproar fills.

What means that smile? what means that shiver?
The landlord's limbs with rapture quiver,
And triumph brightens up his face,
His finger yet will win the race;
The clock is on the stroke of nine,
And up he starts,--"'Tis mine! 'tis mine!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean the fifty;
I never spent an hour so thrifty.
But you who tried to make me lose,
Go, burst with envy, if you choose!
But how is this? where are they?"
"Who?"
"The gentlemen,--I mean the two
Came yesterday,--are they below?"
"They galloped off an hour ago."
"Oh, dose me! blister! shave and bleed!
For, hang the knaves, I'm mad indeed!"

_James Nack._

THE QUAKER'S MEETING

A traveller wended the wilds among,
With a purse of gold and a silver tongue;
His hat it was broad, and all drab were his clothes,
For he hated high colors--except on his nose,
And he met with a lady, the story goes.
Heigho! _yea_ thee and _nay_ thee.

The damsel she cast him a merry blink,
And the traveller nothing was loth, I think,
Her merry black eye beamed her bonnet beneath,
And the Quaker, he grinned, for he'd very good teeth,
And he asked, "Art th