In complement extern, had that within,
Surpassing show; my head continued warm;
Being sheltered from the weather, spite of all
The want (as has been said,) of brim.

2. A change came o'er the color of my hat.

That, which was black, grew brown, and then men stared

With both their eyes (they stared with one before ;)
The wonder now was two-fold; and it seemed
Strange, that things so torn and old, should still

Be worn, by one who might

but let that pass!

I had my reasons, which might be revealed,

But, for some counter reasons far more strong,
Which tied my tongue to silence. Time passed on.
Green spring, and flowery summer, autumn brown,
And frosty winter came-and went, and came—
And still, through all the seasons of two years,
In park, in city, yea, in routs and balls,

The hat was worn, and borne.

Then folks grew wild

With curiosity; and whispers rose,

And questions passed about, how one so trim

In coats, boots, pumps, gloves, trousers, could ensconce His caput in a covering so vile.

3. A change came o'er the nature of my hat.
Grease-spots appeared; but still, in silence, on
I wore it; and then family and friends
Glared madly at each other. There was one,
Who said-but hold-no matter what was said,
A time may come, when I-away-away!
Not till the season's ripe can I reveal

Thoughts that do lie too deep for common minds.
Till then, the world shall not pluck out the heart
Of this, my mystery. When I will—I will!

The hat was now greasy, and old, and torn;
But torn, old, greasy, still I wore it on.

4. A change came o'er the business of this hat.
Women, and men, and children, scowled on me;
My company was shunned-I was alone
None would associate with such a hat;
Friendship itself proved faithless, for a hat.
She, that I loved, within whose gentle breast
I treasured up my heart, looked cold as death;
Love's fires went out-extinguished by a hat.
Of those, that knew me best, some turned aside,
And scudded down dark lanes; one man did place
His finger on his nose's side, and jeered;
Others, in horrid mockery, laughed outright;
Yea, dogs, deceived by instinct's dubious ray,
Fixing their swart glare on my ragged hat,
Mistook me for a beggar, and they barked.
Thus, women, men, friends, strangers, lover, dogs,
One thought pervaded all-it was my hat.

5. A change it was the last-came o'er this hat.
For lo! at length, the circling months went round,
The period was accomplished; and one day
This tattered, brown, old, greasy coverture,
(Time had endeared its vileness,) was transferred
To the possession of a wandering son

Of Israel's fated race; and friends once more
Greeted my digits, with the wonted squeeze:
Once more I went my way-along-along-
And plucked no wondering gaze; the hand of scorn,
With its annoying finger-men, and dogs,

Once more grew doubtless, jokeless, laughless, growlless: And last, not least of rescued blessings, love—

Love smiled on me again, when I assumed
A bran new beaver of the Andre mould;
And then the laugh was mine, for then came out
The secret of this strangeness-'t was a bet.

LESSON XLV.

DOCTOR AND PUPIL.

ANONYMOUS.

1. A PUPIL of the Esculapian school,

2.

Was just prepared to quit his master's rule;
Not that he knew his trade, as it appears,
But that he then had learnt it seven years.

One morn he thus addressed his master: "Dear sir, my honored father bids me say, If I could now and then a visit pay,

He thinks, with you, to notice how you do,

My business I might learn a little faster." 3. "The thought is happy," the preceptor cries; "A better method he could scarce devise; So Bob," (his pupil's name,) " it shall be so; And when I next pay visits, you shall go." To bring that hour, alas! time briskly fled: With dire intent, away they went,

And now, behold them at a patient's bed.

4. The master doctor solemnly perused

His victim's face, and o'er his symptoms mused; Looked wise, said nothing-an unerring way, When people nothing have to say:

Then felt his pulse, and smelt his cane,

And paused, and blinked, and smelt again,

5.

And briefly of his corps performed each motion; Manoeuvers that for death's platoon are meant: A kind of a make-ready-and-present,

Before the fell discharge of pill and potion.

At length, the patient's wife he thus addressed: "Madam, your husband's danger's great,

And (what will never his complaint abate,) The man's been eating oysters, I perceive." "Dear! you're a witch, I verily believe,"

Madam replied, and to the truth confessed. 6. Skill so prodigious, Bobby, too, admired; And home returning, of the sage inquired

How these same oysters came into his head? "Pshaw! my dear Bob, the thing was plain; Sure, that can ne'er distress thy brain;

I saw the shells lie underneath the bed."

7. So wise by such a lesson grown,

Next day Bob ventured out alone,

And to the self-same sufferer paid his court; But soon, with haste and wonder out of breath, Returned the stripling minister of death,

And to his master made this dread report:

8. "Why, sir, we ne'er can keep that patient under; Zounds! such a man I never came across! The fellow must be dying-and no wonder,

For ne'er believe me if he hasn't eat a horse!" 9. "A horse!" the elder man of physic cried, As if he meant his pupil to deride;

"How got so wild a notion in your head?" "How !—think not in my duty I was idle; Like you, I took a peep beneath the bed. And there I saw a saddle and a bridle!'

LESSON XLVI.

ADDRESS TO DR MOYCE, BY THE LADIES.

1. DEAR doctor, let it not transpire,
How much your lectures we admire;
How, at your eloquence we wonder,
When you explain the cause of thunder,
Of lightning, and electricity,
With so much plainness and simplicity;
The origin of rocks, and mountains,
Of seas, and rivers, lakes, and fountains;
Of rain, and hail, and frost, and snow,
And all the storms, and winds that blow;
Besides a hundred wonders more,

Of which we never heard before.

2. But now, dear doctor, not to flatter,
There is a most important matter;

A matter which our thoughts run much on,
A matter which you never touch on,

A subject, if we right conjecture,
That well deserves a long, long lecture,
Which all the ladies would approve―
The natural history of love!
Deny us not, dear Doctor Moyce!
Oh, list to our entreating voice!
Tell us why our poor, tender hearts,
So easily admit love's darts.

Teach us the marks of love's beginning,
What makes us think a beau so winning;
What makes us think a coxcomb witty,
A black coat wise, a red coat pretty!
Why we believe such horrid lies,
That we are angels from the skies,