sight which the corpse reveals!
Sir Thomas' body,
It looked so odd--he
Was half eaten up by the eels!

His waistcoat and hose,
And the rest of his clothes,
Were all gnawed through and through;
And out of each shoe,
An eel they drew;
And from each of his pockets they pulled out two!
And the gardener himself had secreted a few,
As well might be supposed he'd do,
For, when he came running to give the alarm,
He had six in the basket that hung on his arm.

Good Father John was summoned anon;
Holy water was sprinkled and little bells tinkled,
And tapers were lighted,
And incense ignited,
And masses were sung, and masses were said,
All day, for the quiet repose of the dead,
And all night no one thought about going to bed.

But Lady Jane was tall and slim,
And Lady Jane was fair,
And ere morning came, that winsome dame
Had made up her mind, or--what's much the same--
Had _thought about_, once more "changing her name,"
And she said with a pensive air,
To Thompson the valet, while taking away,
When supper was over, the cloth and the tray,
"Eels a many I've ate; but any
So good ne'er tasted before!--
They're a fish too, of which I'm remarkably fond--
Go--pop Sir Thomas again in the pond--
Poor dear!--_he'll catch us some more_."

MORAL

All middle-aged gentlemen let me advise,
If you're married, and hav'n't got very good eyes,
Don't go poking about after blue-bottle flies.
If you've spectacles, don't have a tortoise-shell rim,
And don't go near the water--unless you can swim.
Married ladies, especially such as are fair,
Tall and slim, I would next recommend to beware,
How, on losing one spouse, they give way to despair,
But let them reflect, there are fish, and no doubt on't,
As good _in_ the river, as ever came _out_ on't.

_Richard Harris Barham._

AN EASTERN QUESTION

My William was a soldier, and he says to me, says he,
"My Susan, I must sail across the South Pacific sea;
For we've got to go to Egypt for to fight the old Khedive;
But when he's dead I'll marry you, as sure as I'm alive!"

'Twere hard for me to part with him; he couldn't read nor write,
So I never had love letters for to keep my memory bright;
But Jim, who is our footman, took the _Daily Telegraph_,
And told me William's reg-i-ment mowed down the foe like chaff.

So e