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She has foúr sets of cláws,
And sharp teeth in both jáws,
And two eyes glaring fire;
Snarly Snáp, if you 're wise
You'll not count on your size
But ground árms and retire.
But the dog or the man
Point me out if you can
That beforehand is wise
Snarly Snáp makes a bounce,
On his múzz gets a trounce
That makes bleed nose and eyes.
Snarly Snáp turns his tail
And to mé comes with wail
And complaint against Minn:
“Nay, Snárly Snap, náy;
Those the píper must páy
Who the dancing begin.
“But you 've bóth trespassed só
That oút both must gó,
For I love to be just;"
So I called for the broom,
And out of the room
Both belligerents thrúst.
BRUCHSAL in BADEN, Octob. 16, 1854.
At Nine o' Clock, weáry, I lie down in béd;
At Tén o' Clock swárms of gnats búzz round my head;
At ELÉVEN can it búgs be that óver me creép?
At Twélve for the tickling of fless I can't sleep;
At ÓNE how that bóld squalling brát I could flóg !
At Twó o Clock bów - wow-wow goes the watchdog;
From THREE out every quarter hour crows chanticleer;
At Four dówn the street rattling the Málleposte I hear;
From the steeple the matins come pealing at Five;
At Six to the márket the carts and cars drive;
At Séven from my fáce I 'm kept brúshing the fliés;
At Eight I can't sleep for the sun in my eyes;
At Nine comes a súdden tap táp to my door;
I rise in my shirt and barefoot cross the floor,
Turn the kéy and peep out: “Well, my good friend, what
“Please will you be sháved, Sir?” replies with a bów
A little, pert, dápper, smug fáced gentlemán
With ápron and rázor and hót-water cán;
Struck with hórror I slám the door tó in his fáce.
Gentle reader, imagine yourself in my place,
With a beárd such as mine, and a threat to be shaved,
And all the night sleepless how hád you behaved ?
But I did him no hárm, only slámmed the door to
An example of patience for Christian and Jew
Then dressed, breakfasted, sét out and, trávelling all dáy,
Passed the night in the next inn much in the same way.
Walking from MEHREN to LOSHEIM, in the EIFEL (RHENISH PRUSSIA ); Novem. 1-2, 1854.
Off I gó a redcoat soldier, old England's lion cúb,
With my sérgeant and my colors and my rúb-a-dub-a-dúb;
Here's my firelock, here's my báyonet, here 's my leather
cross-belt white, Here is my shining black cartouche-box - March! halt!
face left and right!
There 's a húndred thousand of us, counting every mother's
són, And not one among us áll knows why the war 's begún; That 's our commander's business, our búsiness is to fight, Down with our country's énemies, and God defend the right.
Good bye, my pretty lássy, I 'm going from you fár;
Think sometimes of your rédcoat when you hear talk of the
Take hálf this bran-new sixpence for a plédge twixt
plédge twixt you and
mé, And every time you sáy your prayers, pray for our victorý.
Come cóme, let 's have no frétting to spoil those pretty eýes; I'd rather have one sweet smile than áll your tears and
sighs. Here 's a húndred kisses for you one more for luck
don't crý And now I 'm off in earnest, good bye, my lass, good bye.
KREUZNACH in RHENISH Prussia, Octob. 29, 1854.
"So this is Heaven,” said I to my conductor,
“And I 'm at lást in full and sure possession
Of lífe eternal; lét me look about me.
Methinks, somehow, it 's not what I expected;
Nor cán I say I feel that full delight,
That éxtasy I had anticipated.
Perhaps the reason is, it 's all so new,
And I must hére, as on the Earth below,
Grów by degrees accústomed and inured.”
My guide replied not, but went on before me,
I following: “Are you súre we are in Heaven ?”
Said I, growing uneasy; for I saw
Neither bright ský, nor sun, nor flowers, nor trees;
Heard nó birds cároling, no gurgling waters;
Far léss saw angel forms, heard angel voices
Singing in chórus praise to the Most High;
But áll was blank and desert, dim and dull,
Místy, obscure and undistinguishable,
Fórmless and void as if seen through thick fog
Or not seen through, but only the fog seen,
The fóg alone, monotonous, uniform,
Ráyless, impenetrable, cheerless, dark;
And all was silent as beneath the ocean
Ten thousand thousand fathom, or at the centre
Of the sólid Earth; and when I strove to speak
I started, started when I strove to hear
My guide's responses, for neither my guide
Nor Í spoke húmanly, nor in a human
Lánguage, for I had left my tongue on Earth,
To rót with my body, and had become a spirit
Voiceless and earless, eyeless and etherial,
Ánd with my guide, for he too was a spirit,
Conversed by consciousness without the aid
Of voice or tongue or ears or signs or sounds:
“If this indeed is Heaven," said I at last
Or stróve or wished to say, “in píty bring me
Out of the waste and horrid wilderness
To where there is some light, some sound, some voice,
Some living thing, some stir, some cheerfulness.”
“Spirit, thou talk'st as thou wert still in the flesh,
And still hadst eyes to see, and ears to hear,
And touch wherewith to hold communication
With sólid and material substances.
What úse were light here where there are no eyes?
What úse were sounds here where there are no ears?
What úse were substance where there are no bodies ?
Here cheerful stir or action would but harm
Where every thing 's already in perfection,
Already in its right, most fitting place.
Nay, sígh not, spirit; this is thy wished Heaven.”
“At least there is communion among spirits,
Spirits know and love each other, spirits hope,
Spirits rejoice together, and together
Sing Hallelujahs to the Lord their God.”
“I said that spírits sing not, when I said
Spírits have neither voices, tongues, nor ears;
And where 's the room for hope, or love, or knowledge
Where there 's no heart, brain, ignorance or passion?
With thy conductor there 's indeed communion,