The same sad cold was in my head,

But no tear on the lid,

And now Mayria has been, and gone, And left me as she did.

I stretch alone, and only hear
The fire-flies ram the wad,

And crickets cricking in lonely fields,
Far off in the land of Nod.

COME ON!-NO, GO!

"I walked beside the evening sea,

And dreamed a dream that could not be,

The waves that plunged along the shore,

Said only, 'Dreamer, dream no more.'"

"EBB AND FLOW"-Geo. W. Curtis.

I WENT to wade a brook last year,
And heard a sound one could not hear,
The water round a splashing made,
Remarking, "Wader, don't you wade!"

I rolled my pantaloons up high,
Resolved to get across or die,

And now the voice was changed, I found, "Come on, come on!" it seemed to sound.

Homeward I ran, and went up stairs,

That noise I heard not anywheres,

But when I came to go to bed,

T'was ringing, somewhere, in my head.

I'll tell you what it was, my dear,
A flea had flown inside my ear,
And drummed upon the drum, there, so,
It sounded like, "Come on!-no, go !"

THE FEEJEE GIRL.

"Give, oh give us English welcomes,
We'll forgive the English skies;

English homes and English manners,

And the light of English eyes."

"THE ENGLISH GIRL."-Chas. Mackay.

GIVE, oh! give us Feejee virtues,
We won't mind the Feejee sins;
Feejee wigs and Feejee wigwams,
And the lovely Feejee grins.
Give us! for our chiefs in battle,
Feejee sons of Feejee sires,

And for wives, fat Feejee females,

With their noses full of wires.

Other tastes, perhaps, may pre-fer
Folks who never feed on men,
But, who sees a Feejee sandwich
Ready fixed, and says so then?
Who sits down to Feejee banquets,
When the thing is served up nice,
And, if asked if he will have some,
Doesn't take a second slice ?

Spicy are the girls of Java,

Oily are the girls of Wales,

Turks, Norwegians, English, Hindoos,

Have their merits-use their nails

But for eyes of watery yellow,

Puffy lips, and cheeks, and that,

Give to us the girls of Feejee,

Fattest of æsthetic fat.