That I'm really prevented from saying my pray'rs,
While an odour, the very reverse of perfume, -
More like rhubarb or senna, pervades the whole room!"

Hector Achille Stanislaus Emile,

When he heard him talk so felt an odd sort of feel; Not that he cared for Ghosts-he was far too genteel; Still a queerish sensation came on when he saw

Him, whom, for fun, They'd, by way of a pun
On his person and principles nicknamed Sans Foi,
A man whom they had, you see, Mark'd as a
Sadducee, —

In his horns, all at once, so completely to draw,
And to talk of a Ghost with such manifest awe!
It excited the Chevalier Grandville's surprise;
He shrugg'd up his shoulders, he turned up his eyes,
And he thought with himself that he could not do less
Than lay the whole matter before the whole mess.

Repetition's detestable ;- So, as you're best able Paint to yourself the effect at the Mess-table

How the bold Brigadiers Prick'd up their ears, And received the account, some with fears, some with

sneers.

How the Sieur de la Roue Said to Count Cordon
Blue,

"Ma foi-c'est bien drôle-Monseigneur, what say you?"

How Count Cordon Bleu Declared he "thought

so too; "

How the Colonel affirm'd that

new; '"

"the case was quite

How the Captains and Majors Began to lay wagers

How far the Ghost part of the story was true ;

How, at last, when asked "What was the best thing

to do?"

Everybody was silent, -for nobody knew!

And how, in the end, they said, "No one could deal
With the matter so well, from his prudence and zeal,
As the Gentleman who was the first to reveal
This strange story-viz., Hippolyte Hector Achille
Alphonse Stanislaus Emile de Grandville!"

I need scarcely relate The plans, little and great, Which came into the Chevalier Hippolyte's pate To rescue his friend from his terrible foes, Those mischievous Imps whom the world, I suppose From extravagant notions respecting their hue, Has strangely agreed to denominate "Blue," Inasmuch as his schemes were of no more avail Than those he had, early in life, found to fail, When he strove to lay salt on some little bird's tail.

In vain did he try With strong waters to ply His friend, on the ground that he never could spy Such a thing as a Ghost, with a drop in his eye; St. Foix never would drink now unless he was dry;

Besides, what the vulgar call "sucking the monkey"
Has much less effect on a man when he's funky.
In vain did he strive to detain him at table
Till his "dark hour" was over-he never was able,

Save once, when at Mess, With that sort of address, Which the British call "Humbug," and Frenchmen

"Finesse"

(It's "Blarney" in Irish-I don't know the Scotch,) He fell to admiring his friend's English watch. *

He examined the face, And the back of the case, And the young Lady's portrait there, done on enamel, he "Saw by the likeness was one of the family;"

Cried "Superbe!-Magnifique!" (With his tongue
in his cheek)-

Then he open'd the case, just to take a peep in it, and
Seized the occasion to pop back the minute hand.
With a demi-congé, and a shrug, and a grin, he
Returns the bijou and-c'est une affaire finie-
"I've done him," thinks he, "now I'll wager a guinea!"

It happen'd that day They were all very gay, *Twas the Grand Monarque's birthday-that is, 'twas

St. Louis's,

Which in Catholic countries, of course, they would view as his

* "Tompion's, I presume?"-Farquhar.

So when Hippolyte saw Him about to withdraw, He cried, "Come-that won't do, my fine fellow, St.

Foix,

Give us five minutes longer, and drink Vive le Roi!"

François Xavier Auguste, Without any mistrust, Of the trick that was play'd, drew his watch from his fob, Just glanced at the hour, then agreed to "hob-nob,"

Fill'd a bumper, and rose With "Messieurs, I
propose"-

He paused-his blanch'd lips fail'd to utter the toast.
'Twas eleven - he thought it half-past ten at most-
Ev'ry limb, nerve, and muscle grew stiff as a post, -
His jaw dropp'd-his eyes Swell'd to twice their own

size

And he stood as a pointer would stand-at a Ghost! -Then shriek'd, as he fell on the floor like a stone, "Ah! Sister Therese! now-do let me alone!"

It's amazing by sheer perseverance what men do, -
As water wears stone by the "Sæpe cadendo,"
If they stick to Lord Somebody's motto, "Agendo!"
Was it not Robert Bruce?-I declare I've forgot,
But I think it was Robert-you'll find it in Scott-
Who, when cursing Dame Fortune, was taught by a

Spider,

"She's sure to come round, if you will but abide her."

Then another great Rob, Called "White-headed
Bob,"

Whom I once saw receive such a thump on the "nob"
From a fist which might almost an elephant brain,
That I really believed, at the first, he was slain,
For he lay like a log on his back on the plain,
Till a gentleman present accustomed to train,
Drew out a small lancet, and open'd a vein
Just below his left eye, which relieving the pain,
He stood up like a trump, with an air of disdain,

While his "backer" was fain- For he could not
refrain-

(He was dress'd in pea-green, with a pin and gold chain, And I think I heard somebody call him "Squire Hayne,") To whisper ten words one should always retain, -"TAKE A SUCK AT THE LEMON AND AT HIM

AGAIN!!!"

A hint ne'er surpass'd, though thus spoken at random, Since Teucer's apostrophe-Nil desperandum! Grandville acted on it, and order'd his Tandem.

He had heard St. Foix say, That no very great way From Namur was a snug little town called Grandpré, Near which, a few miles from the banks of the Maese, Dwelt a pretty twin-sister of poor dear Therese, Of the same age, of course, the same father, same

mother,

And as like to Therese as one pea to another;

She liv'd with her Mamma, Having lost her Papa,