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 to 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 spread night's raven shades
Ánd to bed are boys and maids
And silence thé whole house pervades,
Moúsey póps nose, whiskers out,

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

He has not to shave, brush, tie cravat,

Look for gloves, cane, cárds 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
Véntures upon the béllpull ring;
Or scales the leg of the escritoire,
Squeezes intó th' half open drawer,
Among the papers plays about

A mínute or two, then scampers out,
And past the inkstand as he goes
With such a curl turns up his nose
As thorough-bred gentility shows
And that your moúsey 's too well born
Not 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 cáre and sórrow, cark and coil,

Ánd that anón into the room

Will burst with sweeping-brush and broom

Dówdy Lisetta, 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 time you should retire
And leave 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 happy 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.

THREE
HREE things thou testifiest, careful key:
First that there is on earth something material
Vile therefore and corrupt and perishable
Which yét my fine, imperishable soul
Prízes, esteéms and cares for; secondly
That I'm the happy owner of such treasure;
And thirdly that I've found a talisman
Wherewith to guárd it from the covetous eye
And often thiévish, sometimes burglar, hands
Óf the innumerable hordes whose fine,

Ethérial, heáven-sprung, heáven-returning spirits
Pursue with appetite keéner even than mine
And more unscrúpulous, the chase of Earth's

Despised, reviled, repúdiated riches.

Walking from HEIDELBERG to FRANKENTHAL in the PALATINATE, Octob. 26, 1854.

Says my cát, looking blué: "Sir, I don't purr at you,

And I mean you no hárm;

"Twere a pity that wé

Should just thén least agreé

When we 're móst snug and warm."