She shriek'd with the pain, but all efforts were vain,
In vain did they strain every sinew and muscle,—
The cushion stuck fast!-From that hour to her last
She could never get rid of that comfortless "Bustle" !

And e'en as Macbeth, when devising the death

Of his King, heard "the very stones prate of his whereabouts Bo this shocking bad wife heard a voice all her life Crying "Murder!" resound from the cushion,

-or thereabouts

With regard to the Clerk, we are left in the dark
As to what his fate was; but I can not imagine he
Got off scot-free, though unnoticed it be

Both by Ribadaneira and Jacques de Voragine:

For cut-throats, we 're sure, can be never secure,
And "History's Muse" still to prove it her pen holds,
you '11 see, if you'll look in a rather scarce book,
"God's Revenge against Murder," by one Mr. Reynolds.

As

MORAL

Now, you grave married Pilgrims, who wander away.
Like Ulysses of old (vide Homer and Naso),

Don't lengthen your stay to three years and a day,
And when you are coming home, just write and say so!

And you, learned Clerks, who 're not given to roam,
Stick close to your books, nor lose sight of decorum,
Don't visit a house when the master's from home!
Shun drinking, and study the "Vita Sanciorum !"

Above all, you gay ladies, who fancy neglect
In your spouses, allow not your patience to fail;
But remember Gengulphus's wife !—and reflect
On the inoral enforced by her terrible tale!

7

SIR RUPERT THE FEARLESS.

A LEGEND OF GERMANY.

R. HARRIS BARHAM

8:R RUPERT the Fearless, a gallant young knight, Was equally ready to tipple or fight,

Crack a crown, or a bottle,

Cut sirloin, or throttle;

In brief, or as Hume says, "to sum up the tottle,"
Unstain'd by dishonor, unsullied by fear,

All his neighbors pronounced him a preux chevalier.

Despite these perfections, corporeal and mental,
He had one slight defect, viz., a rather lean rental;
Besides, 'tis own'd there are spots in the sun,
So it must be confess'd that Sir Rupert had one;
Being rather unthinking,

He'd scarce sleep a wink in

A night, but addict himself sadly to drinking;
And what moralists say,

Is as naughty-to play,

To Rouge et Noir, Hazard, Short Whist, Ecarté ;
Till these, and a few less defensible fancies

Brought the Knight to the end of his slender finances

When at length through his boozing,

And tenants refusing

Their rents, swearing "times were so bad they were losing," His steward said, "O, sir,

It's some time ago, sir,

Since aught through my hands reach'd the baker or grocer, And the tradesmen in general are grown great complainers' Sir Rupert the brave thus address'd his retainers:

"My friends, since the stock

Of my father's old hock

Is out, with the Kirchwasser, Barsac, Moseile,
And we 're fairly reduced to the pump and the well,

For each to shake hands with his friends ere he goes,
Mount his horse, if he has one, and-follow his nose;

As to me, I opine,

Left sans money or wine,

My best way is to throw myself into the Rhine, Where pitying trav'lers may sigh, as they cross over, •Though he lived a roué, yet he died a philosopher.'

The Knight, having bow'd out his friends thus politely,
Got into his skiff, the full moon shining brightly,
By the light of whose beam,

He soon spied on the stream

A dame, whose complexion was fair as new cream,
Pretty pink silken hose

Cover'd ankles and toes,

In other respects she was scanty of clothes;
For, so says tradition, both written and oral,
Her one garment was loop'd up with bunches of coral.

Full sweetly she sang to a sparkling guitar,
With silver chords stretch'd over Derbyshire spar,
And she smiled on the Knight,

Who, amazed at the sight,

Soon found his astonishment merged in delight;

But the stream by degrees

Now rose up to her knees,

Till at length it invaded her very chemise,

While the heavenly strain, as the wave seem'd to swallow her And slowly she sank, sounded fainter and hollower; -Jumping up in his boat

And discarding his coat,

"Here goes," cried Sir Rupert, "by jingo I'll follow her!"

Then into the water he plunged with a souse

That was heard quite distinctly by those in the house.

Down, down, forty fathom and more from the brink,
Sir Rupert the Fearless continues to sink,

And, as downward he goes,

Still the cold water flows

Through his ears, and his eyes, and his mouth, and his nose
Till the rum and the brandy he'd swallow'd since lunch
Wanted nothing but lemon to fill him with punch;
Some minutes elapsed since he enter'd the flood,
Ere his heels touch'd the bottom, and stuck in the mud.

But oh! what a sight

Met the eyes of the Knight,

When he stood in the depth of the stream bolt upright!A grand stalactite hall,

Like the cave of Fingal,

Rose above and about him;—great fishes and small
Came thronging around him, regardless of danger,
And seem'd all agog for a peep at the stranger.
Their figures and forms to describe, language fails-
They'd such very odd heads, and such very odd tails;
Of their genus or species a sample to gain,
You would ransack all Hungerford market in vain;
E'en the famed Mr. Myers,

Would scarcely find buyers,

Though hundreds of passengers doubtless would stop
To stare, were such monsters exposed in his shop.

But little reck'd Rupert these queer-looking brutes,
Or the efts and the newts

That crawled up his boots,

For a sight, beyond any of which I've made mention,
In a moment completely absorb'd his attention.

A huge crystal bath, which, with water far clearer

Than George Robins' filters, or Thorpe's (which are dearer) Have ever distill'd,

To the summit was fill'd,

Lay stretch'd out before him—and every nerve thrill'd
As scores of young women
Were diving and swimming,

Till the vision a perfect quandary put him in ;-
All slightly accoutred in gauzes and lawns,
They came floating about him like so many prawns.

Sir Rupert, who (barring the few peccadilloes
Alluded to), ere he lept into the billows
Possess'd irreproachable morals, began

To feel rather queer, as a modest young man;
When forth stepp'd a dame, whom he recognized soon
As the one he had seen by the light of the moon,
And lisp'd, while a soft smile attended each sentence,
"Sir Rupert, I'm happy to make your acquaintance;

My name is Lurline,

And the ladies you've seen,

All do ine the honor to call me their Queen;

I'm delighted to see you, sir, down in the Rhine here,
And hope you can make it convenient to dine here."

The Knight blush'd, and bow'd,

As ne ogled the crowd

Of subaqueous beauties, then answer'd aloud:
"Ma'am, you do me uch honor-I can not express
The delight I shall feel-if you'll pardon my dress-
May I venture to say, when a gentleman jumps
In the river at midnight for want of the 'dumps,'
He rarely puts on his knee-breeches and pumps;
If I could but have guess'd—what I sensibly feel-
Your politeness-I'd not have come en dishabille,
But have put on my silk tights in lieu of my steel."
Quoth the lady, "Dear sir, no apologies, pray,
You will take our 'pot-luck' in the family way;
We can give you a dish

Of some decentish fish,

And our water's thought fairish; but here in the Rline, I can't say we pique ourselves much on our wine."

The Knight made a bow more profound than before,
When a Dory-faced page oped the dining-room door,
And said, bending his knee,

Rupert tender'd his arm, led Lurline to her place,
And a fat little Mer-man stood up and said grace.

What boots it to tell of the viands, or how she
Apologized much for their plain water-souchy,
Want of Harvey's, and Cross's,

And Burgess's sauces?

Or how Rupert, on his side, protested, by Jove, he
Preferr'd his fish plain, without soy or anchovy.
Suffice it the meal

Boasted trout, perch, and eel,

Besides some remarkably fine salmon peel.

The Knight, sooth to say, thought much less of the fishes Than what they were served on, the mass-e gold dishes;