A second morning's light expands,

Unfound the infant fair;

And Wilhelm's household wring their hands,
Abandoned to despair.

But, haply, a poor artisan
Searched ceaselessly, till he
Found safe asleep the little one
Beneath a beechen tree.

His hand still grasped a bunch of flowers;
And-true, though wondrous-near
To sentry his reposing hours,

There stood a female deer,

Who dipped her horns at all that passed
The spot where Wilhelm lay;
Till force was had to hold her fast,
And bear the boy away.

To this poor wanderer of the world,
Speech, reason, were unknown-
And yet she watched a sleeping child
As if it were her own!

BEFORE AND AFTER MARRIAGE.

BEFORE.

HOW THE GENTLEMEN DO BEFORE MARRIAGE.

OH! then they come flattering,

Soft nonsense chattering,

Praising your pickling,

Playing at tickling,

Love verses writing,
Acrostics inditing,

If your finger aches, fretting,
Fondling and petting,

"My loving,"" my doving,"

"Petseying,"-"wetseying,"

Now sighing, now dying,

Now dear diamonds buying,

Or yards of chantilly, like a great big silly,
Cashmere shawls-brandy balls,

Oranges, apples,-gloves, Gros de Naples,
Sweet pretty "skuggies"-ugly pet puggies;
Now with an ear-ring themselves endearing,
Or squandering guineas upon Sevignés,
Now fingers squeezing or playfully teazing,
Bringing you bull's eyes, casting you sheep's eyes,
Looking in faces while working braces,
Never once heeding what they are reading,
But soiling one's hose by pressing one's toes;

Or else so zealous, and nice and jealous of all the fellows
Darting fierce glances if ever one dances with a son of
France's;

Or finding great faults, or threatening assaults whenever you "valtz;"

Or fuming and fussing enough for a dozen if you romp with your cousin ;

Continually stopping, when out a-shopping, and bank notes dropping,

Not seeking to win money, calling it "tin" money, and promising pin money;

Like pic-nics at Twickenham, off lovely cold chicken, ham, and champagne to quicken 'em ;

Detesting one's walking without John too goes stalking, to prevent the men talking:

Think you still in your teens, wont let you eat "greens," and hate Crinolines;

Or heaping caresses, if you curl your back tresses, or wear low-neck'd dresses;

Or when up the river, almost sure to diskiver that beats all to shiver, the sweet Guadalquiver;

Or seeing death-fetches if the tooth-ache one catches, making picturesque sketches of the houses of . wretches;

Or with loud double knocks brings from Ebers' a box,

to see "Box and Cox," or pilfer one's locks to mark their new stocks;

Or whilst you are singing a love song so stinging, they vow they'll be swinging, or in Serpentine springing, unless to them clinging, you'll go weddingringing, and for life mend their linen.

Now the gentlemen sure I've no wish to disparage,
But this is the way they go on before marriage.

AFTER.

HOW DO THE GENTLEMEN DO AFTER MARRIAGE?

OH! then nothing pleases 'em,

But everything teazes 'em,

Then they're grumbling and snarling—

You're a "fool," not a "darling;"

Though they're as rich as the Ingies,

They're the stingiest of stingies;
And what is so funny,

They've never got money;

Only ask 'em for any

And they haven't a penny;

But what passes all bounds,

On themselves they'll spend pounds

Give guineas for lunch

Off real turtle and punch;

Each week a noise brings about, when they pitch all the things about;

Now bowing in mockery, now smashing the crockery; Scolding and swearing, their bald heads tearing; Storming and raging past all assuaging.

Heaven preserve us ! it makes one so nervous,

To hear the door slam to, to be called simple ma'am too ; (I wonder if Adam called Mrs. Eve Madam;)

As a matter of course they'll have a divorce;

Or "my Lord Duke" intends to send you home to your friends,

And allow ten pounds a quarter for yourself and your daughter;

Though you strive all your might you can do nothing

right ;

While the maids-the old song-can do nothing wrong; "Every shirt wants a button!" Every day they've cold mutton;

They're always a flurrying one, or else they're a hurrying one, or else they're a worrying one;

Threatening to smother your dear sainted mother, or kick your big brother;

After all your fine doings, your strugglings and stewings-why "the house is in ruins!"

Then the wine goes like winking, and they cannot help thinking you've taken to drinking;

They're perpetually rows keeping, 'cause out of the house-keeping they're in bonnets their spouse keeping;

So when they've been meated, if with pies they're not treated, they vow that they are cheated!

Then against Ascot Races, and all such sweet places, they set their old faces;

And they'll never leave town, nor to Broadstairs go down, though with bile you're quite brown;

For their wife they unwilling are, after cooing and billing her, to stand a cap from a milliner—e’en a paltry twelve shillinger;

And it gives them the vapours to witness the capers of those bowers and scrapers, the young linen drapers; Then to add to your woes, they say nobody knows how the money all goes, but they pay through the nose for the dear children's clothes;

Though you strive and endeavour, they're so mightily clever, that please them you'll never, till you leave them for ever-yes! the hundredth time sever— "for ever-AND EVER! !"

Now the gentlemen sure I've no wish to disparage,
But this is the way they go on after marriage.

(From the "Comic Almanack.”)

PRIULI AND JAFFIER.

THOMAS OTWAY.

Pri. No more! I'll hear no more! begone, and leave.

me.

Jaff. Not hear me! By my sufferings but you shall: My lord, my lord! I'm not that abject wretch

You think me. Patience! where's the distance throws
Me back so far, but I may boldly speak

In right, tho' proud oppression will not hear me !
Pri. Have you not wrong'd me?

Jaff. Could my nature e'er

Have brook'd injustice, or the doing wrong,

I need not now thus low have bent myself
To gain a hearing from a cruel father.-

Wrong'd you?

In the nicest point,

Pri. Yes, wrong'd me.
The honour of my house, you've done me wrong.
When you first came home from travel,
With such hopes as made you look'd on

By all men's eyes, a youth of expectation,
Pleased with your seeming virtue I received you:
Courted and sought to raise you to your merits:
My house, my table, nay, my fortune, too,
My very self was yours: you might have used me
To your best service: Like an open friend
I treated, trusted you, and thought you mine,
When in requital of my best endeavours,
You treacherously practised to undo me:
Seduced the weakness of my age's darling,
My only child, and stole her from my bosom.
Jaff. 'Tis to me you owe her:

Childless you had been else, and in the grave
Your name extinct; no more Priuli heard of.
You may remember, scarce five years are past
Since in your brigantine you sail'd to see
The Adriatic wedded by our duke:
And I was with you. Your unskilful pilot
Dash'd us upon a rock; when to our boat
You made for safety; enter'd first yourself;