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WÉT and dry and hót and cold,
Só the world hath éver góne
Cóme and cry with mé, Heigh hó!
VILSHOFEN in BAVARIA, June 25, 1854.
HE SHE AND IT.
Ir happened in a distant clime
Through every change of wind and weather,
The first was neither young nor old,
But brown and muscular, wise and bold;
The second delicate and fair,
With soft, sweet eyes, and flaxen hair;
The third was inoffensive, mild
And dócile as a well reared child,
Pátient of wrong and in all ill
And hardship uncomplaining still.
The first thus to the second said:
"I can't imagine, lovely SHE,
Why we might not united be,
Right well, I doubt not, we 'd agree:
Come, fairest, loveliest SHE, let 's wed,
Three never were good company;
What think'st thou, my own darling SHE?" "I'm quite of your mind," SHE replied, "And will stay ever by your side
Through good and bad, through death and life,
So said so done; the two are wed;
Well risen the sun, tapped at their door: "Make háste, make haste; it's rising time; Already we have lost the prime.”
"We cóme, we come immediately;"
Upstarting quick thus answered SHE;
But HÉ: "I'll not a foot go," cried
"You will, my dear."
"My dear, I wont." "You will indeed." "What if I don't?" "And will you, cán you, say me nay Ere yet well fled my bridal day?" "I cán and will; you must obey." "Not í indeed." "You shall, I say; Come back to bed." "You will and must."
"No, dear, I wont."
"Don't talk so loud; that IT has ears."
"I don't care if the whole world hears."
"Not ready yet?" "No!" with a shout
Happy and with itself content,
And where it liked best the day spent.
Nó one was there to make a rout,
And answer "Come, Love" with "I wont,"
And "Múst Love," with "What if I don't?"
Strove ĺr its comrades to descry:
"Though not in sight they'll come anon"
Yés, Ir; but wait not them upon;
The first point settled, their debate
Túrns on the next; good Ir, don't wait;
Enjoy the precious liberty
Already mourned by HE and SHE.
Walking from SILIAN in the PUSTERTHAL to LANDRO in the valley of
AMPEZZO, July 22, 1854.
"GOODHEARTED, kind and generous, to a fault, In all his dealings scrupulously just,
He wére the model of a perfect man
Hád he his sénses; but this constant laughing, Nóthing but laughing, morning noon and night – Is évidence, alas! but too convincing,
Our goód Democritus is gone stark mad.
Perhaps the wise physician knows some herb
Cóme to Abdéra and his finger laid
Tired thus he said to the amazed physician:
Unless you'd have me die downright with laughing." "Hów or at what?" "Why at the learned Doctor Who, sent to cure me, makes me ten times worse.
Before you came I used to amuse myself
With laughing at the silly people here
Who thought me mad because a little wiser,
And now my laughing 's doubled at the sage
Or stay and cure the people of Abdéra,
And that one sáne man was Democritus.
The story 's nó less true told of the poet
Who with his pen in hand keeps laughing, laughing,
while walking from VICENZA to VERONA, Aug.
can put up with people of all sorts, if only they have money, I can find beauty in all kinds of eyes, if only they are funny, I can live anywhere in town or country where it's only sunny, I can eat fish of any kind, fresh, salt or pickled, except tunny, But curse me, if I can without a massy crystal spoon eat honey. KÜSSNACHT, on the VIERWALDSTÄTTER SEE, Sept. 20, 1854.