And all the Todds are coming up to see us, out of Kent;
I quite forgot to tell you John has had a tipsy fall;
I'm sure there's something going on with that vile Mary
Hall!

"Miss Bell has bought the sweetest silk, and I have bought the rest

Of course, if we go out of town, Southend will be the best.

I really think the Jones's house would be the thing

for us;

I think I told you Mrs. Pope had parted with her nus.

"Cook, by the way, came up to-day, to bid me suit myself-

And what d'ye think? the rats have gnawed the victuals on the shelf.

And, Lord! there's such a letter come, inviting you to

A PARENTAL ODE TO MY SON, AGED THREE YEARS AND

FIVE MONTHS.

THOU happy, happy elf!

(But stop,

first let me kiss away that tear)

Thou tiny image of myself!

(My love, he's poking peas into his ear!)

Thou merry, laughing sprite!

With spirits feather-light,

Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin

(Good heavens! the child is swallowing a pin!)

Thou little tricksy Puck!

With antic toys so funnily bestuck,

Light as the singing bird that wings the air(The door! the poor! he'll tumble down the stair!) Thou darling of thy sire!

(Why, Jane, he'll set his pinafore afire!)

Thou imp of mirth and joy!

In Love's dear chain so strong and bright a link,

Thou idol of thy parents

There goes my ink !)

(Drat the boy!

Thou cherub but of earth;

Fit playfellow for Fays, by moonlight pale,
In harmless sport and mirth,

(That dog will bite him if he pulls its tail!)

Thou human humming-bee, extracting honey
From every blossom in the world that blows,
Singing in youth's elysium ever sunny,
(Another tumble! - that's his precious nose!)

Thy father's pride and hope!

(He'll break the mirror with that skipping-rope!) With pure heart newly stamped from Nature's mint (Where did he learn that squint ?)

Thou young domestic dove!

(He'll have that jug off, with another shove!)

Dear nursling of the Hymeneal nest!

(Are those torn clothes his best ?)

Little epitome of man!

(He'll climb upon the table, that's his plan!) Touched with the beauteous tints of dawning life

(He's got a knife !)

Thou enviable being!

No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing,

Play on, play on,

My elfin John!

Toss the light ball

bestride the stick

(I knew so many cakes would make him sick!) With fancies, buoyant as the thistle-down, Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk, With many a lamb-like frisk,

(He's got the scissors, snipping at your gown!)

Thou pretty opening rose!

(Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose!) Balmy and breathing music like the South, (He really brings my heart into my mouth!) Fresh as the morn, and brilliant as its star, (I wish that window had an iron bar!) Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove, (I'll tell you what, my love,

I cannot write unless he's sent above!)

IV.

A SERENADE.

“LULLABY, O, lullaby!”
Thus I heard a father cry,
"Lullaby, O, lullaby!

The brat will never shut an eye;
Hither come, some power divine!
Close his lids, or open mine!"

Why are not the sons of earth

Blind, like puppies, from the birth ? "

"Lullaby, O, lullaby!" Thus I heard the father cry;

Lullaby, O, lullaby!

Mary, you must come and try!
Hush, O, hush, for mercy's sake

The more I sing, the more you wake!"

"Lullaby, O, lullaby!

Two such nights and I shall die!
Lullaby, O, lullaby!

He'll be bruised, and so shall I,
How can I from bed-posts keep,
When I'm walking in my sleep!"

My nerves relax, - my eyes grow dim

Who's that fallen

me or him ? "

IN London once I lost my way in faring to and fro,

And asked a ragged little boy the way that I should go;

He gave a nod, and then a wink, and told me to get there "Straight down the Crooked Lane, and all round the

Square."

I boxed his little saucy ears, and then away I strode; But since I've found that weary path is quite a common road.

Utopia is a pleasant place, but how shall I get there? Straight down the Crooked Lane, and all round the Square."

I've read about a famous town that drove a famous trade, Where Whittington walked up and found a fortune ready

made.

The very streets are paved with gold; but how shall I get there?

"Straight down the Crooked Lane, and all round the

Square."

I've read about a Fairy Land, in some romantic tale, Where dwarfs if good are sure to thrive, and wicked giants fail;

My wish is great, my shoes are strong, but how shall I get there?

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Straight down the Crooked Lane, and all round the Square."

I've heard about some happy isle, where every man is

free,

And none can lie in bonds for life for want of L. S. D.

O! that's the land of Liberty! but how shall I get there? Straight down the Crooked Lane, and all round the

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Square."

I've dreamt about some blessed spot, beneath the blessed

sky,

Where bread and justice never rise too dear for folks to

buy.