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ONCE on a time it happened as I was lounging in the Vatican
I met an old friend of mine,-a very leárned mán -
“Now I could almost swear I know the very man you mean;
A shilling to a penny, it has Cardinal Mai been.”
Done! and you 've lost your bet for these weighty reasons two:
He's neither learned nor a friend of mine, that pippin-hearted

Jew;
Unless you count it learning, to be perpetually men's ears

boring With his scouring of old book-shelves, and pálimpsest restoring, And unless you call it friendship that twice my hand he shook And kissed me on both cheeks, and took a present of my book; So much as this of his Eminence I learned three years ago, And more than this of his Eminence I don't desire to know. So to go back to where I was when you interrupted me: – “I 'm heartily glad,” said I, “my good old friend to see; And are you very well ? and when did you come to Rome? And what is it brings you here? and how are all at home?” “I 'm very well,” said he, "and at home I left all well, And since yesterday I 'm here, and now please to me tell How things are going on here, and what 's the newest news With the Pope or the Consulta or your own sweet Irish Muse.” “As for my Muse," said I – for I always put her first — “Of all places in the wide world Rome is for her the worst, For she's always kept so busy here gazing round on every side With uplifted hands and open mouth and eyelids staring wide On painting, arch and statue, pillar, obelisk and dome And all the thousand wonders of ever wondrous Rome,

That I can't get one word out of her let me teaze her as I may
Except "Please let me alone, Sir," and "I 'll do no work today.”
And as for the Consulta, it doesn't consult with me,
And if it did I doubt me much 'twere long ere we 'd agree.
And then as to his Holiness, I hope you don't suppose”
And here I looked as wise as I could and clapped my finger

on my nose “Dear Sir, has anything happened or do you anything know?”. “Not I indeed, my good friend, or I'd have told you long ago; But this much I can tell you and I doubt not but it 's true, And remember what I say now 's strictly between me and you: This building here 's the Vatican, this city is called Rome -And mum about his Holiness until we both get home.” Walking from Worms tò KREUZNACH in Rhenish Prussia, Oct. 27–28, 1854.

I WISH I were that little mouse
Thát no rent pays for his house,
That neither sows nor reaps nor tills,
Bút his plúmp, round belly fills
With cheesepárings or a slice,
Léft on my pláte, of bacon nice.
Soón as spreád night's raven shades
And to béd are boys and maids
And silence the whole house pervades,
Moúsey póps nose, whiskers out,

,
Sníffs the air and looks about
The coást is clear; right joyfully
Out on the carpet canters he
To take his pleasure all the night
And spórt about till morning light.
He has not on lazy groom to wait,
Coachman and équipage of state;

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He has not to shave, brush, tie cravat,
Look for gloves, cane, cards and hat,
This countermánd and order that,
But always ready dressed and trim,
And sleek and smooth, sound wind and limb,
Springs out light-heárt upon the floor,
Cápers from window to the door,
From door to window, many a race
Takes round the washboard and surbáse,
Nibbles the crúst I 've purposely
Dropped on the crumbcloth while at tea,
Climbs up the wainscot, and a swing
Ventures upon the béllpull ring;
Or scáles the leg of the escritoire,
Squeezes intó th' half open drawer,
Among the papers plays about
A minute or two, then scampers out,
And past the inkstand as he goes
With súch a curl turns up his nose
As thorough - bred gentility shows
And that your moúsey 's too well born
Nót to hold literature in scorn.
So happy moúsey sports away
The livelong night till dáwning day,
And only then of slúmber thinks
When through the window - shutter chinks
Long streaks of light fall on the floor
And milk - pail clink at the hall door
Announces man's return to toil,
Fresh care and sorrow, cark and coil,
Ảnd that anón into the room
Will búrst with sweeping-brush and broom
Dówdy Lisétta, half awake,
Her fússy morning round to take,

Dust táble, sófa, sideboard, chair;
Throw up the sash to let in air,
Pólish the irons, light the fire
Moúsey, it 's tíme you should retire
And leáve your hápless neighbour, man,
To enjoy his daylight as he can
While you lie napping snug, till night
Invites you out to new delight
Ah! moúsey, if you 'd change with me

How háppy in your place I 'd be! Walking from BRUCHSAL to HEIDELBERG, and at HEIDELBERG ; Octob. 17 and 24, 1854.

To the key of my strong box.

HREE things thou téstifiest, careful key:
First that there is on earth something material
Vile therefore and corrupt and perishable
Which yét my fine, imperishable soul
Prizes, esteems, and cares for; secondly
That I 'm the happy owner of such treasure;
And thirdly that I 've found a talisman
Wherewith to guard it from the covetous eye
And often thiévish, sometimes burglar, hands
of the innumerable hordes whose fine,
Ethérial, heáven-sprung, heáven-returning spirits
Pursue with áppetite keéner even than mine
And móre unscrúpulous, the chase of Earth’s

Despísed, reviled, repúdiated riches.
Walking from HEIDELBERG tò FRANKENTHAL in the PALATINATE, Octob. 26, 1854.

As my dóg and my cát
At the párlour fire sát

One cold night after teá,
Says my dóg to my cát:
“By this and by thát

You shall not purr at me.”

Says my cát, looking blue: “Sir, I don't purr at yoú,

And I mean you no hárm; ”Twere a pity that wé Should just then least agree

When we 're most snug and warm.”

Says my dóg: “Mistress Minn,
I don't care one pin

For your wárm or your cold;
But this much I knów :
If you keep purring só

I 'll to towse you make bóld.”

Snarly Snáp growls attack;
Minnie Minn humps her back

And jumps up on a chair;
'Twas not she caused the strife,
But she 'll fight for her life

If to toúch her he dáre.

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