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It 's the gripes; the gripes are wholesome;
Quick the fénnel; mix some súck with 't:
Deár, sweet creature, how it súffers !
"Tmúst be pain that makes it crý so.

Give 't the breast; what! wont it take it?
Dón't be cross, dear pretty Bóbby;
Pá wont háve you if you cry so;
Thére there! go to sleep, sweet Bóbby.

Deár me! what can be the matter?
Máybe á pin 's rúnning in it;
Strip it quick; see! thére 's no pín here
Poór, dear bábe! what is it ails it?

Heát the flánnel at the fire well,
Dróp six drops of brándy on it,
Bind it tight round — not so strait quite
Still it criés as múch as ever.

Where is the saffron, thé magnésia ?
Í 'm beginning to be frightened;
Bút it looks ill! cáll a doctor;
Stóp, I think it 's growing quiet.

Húsh-o húsh-0; whát 's that noise there?
Shút the door to, draw the cúrtains,
Lét no foot stir; húsh-o húsh-0;
Húsh-o, dárling báby, húsh-o.

Now it is quiet, it 's asleep now;
Húsh-o, darling báby, húsh-o;
And it 's slobbering, thát 's a good sign,
This time God wont take his chérub.

Whát a sweet smile! it 's awake now;
Take it úp, put on its clean bib;
Nów 'twill take the breast I warrant;
Hów it súcks, the little glútton!

Púking! lóvely; ít 's all right now.
Wipe its moúth - another clean bib;
Blessings on it for a fine child!
Ít will be a great man some day.

Walking from TODTMOOS to MENZENSCHWAND in the Black FOREST (BADEN), Octob. 7, 1854.


BREÁD upon bútter spread is rare,

Rare heels up and heads down,
Grass growing toward the centre 's rare,

Rare underfoot a crown;

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WITHÍN the convent of Johannathal,
Before daybreak upon Ascension day
There is a soúnd of more life than is common
Within Saint Ursula's bare and lofty walls.
Three times the porteress to the latticed window
Óf the locked gáte has put her ear to listen
If foot of prior's mule might yet be heard
Or réverend bishop's up the valley wending
From fár Saint Martin's, and fourth time at last
Hearing the hoofs, the portal wicket opens
And to “Gelobt sei Jesus Christus," answers
With folded hands “In Ewigkeit, Herrn Väter.”
“God greet the lady Philippina,” said
The bishop and the prior entering the parlour,
And Gód greet all the sisters here assembled,
And Gód greet trebly her whom here today,
Sáved from a sinful world, we are to add
To hóly Ursula's pious sisterhood.”
I need not ásk, Sir prior," then said the bishop,
«ff to our dear child Agatha has been
Dúly administered for seven days past
Each day the sacrament of the Lord's body,
Her heart being first prepared for its reception
By fúll and free confession of her sins
Éven the most vénial?” “As thou say'st, my lord.”

” “And thoú, my lady abbess, of no cause Art cógnizant why to this sisterhood

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Should not be added one more loving sister,
Not plánted in the garden of the Lord
This shoot of promise, this sweet, fragrant branch?”
“Í of no hindrance am aware, my lord,
Unless it be a hindrance, to have passed
In pénitence, obedience, selfdenial

And works of mercy and beneficence
The years of her noviciate and white veil."
“Then let the child attend us in the chapel,
If reády there the coffin and the pall.”
The yoúngest sister then the candles lit,
And two by two, each with a light in hand,
They walked in slow procession from the parlour
Along the corridor and down the stair
And round the cloister court into the chapel,
The novices before, the white veils last,
Behind the novices the prior singly
In gówn and scapulaire, the bishop then
In púrple pallium, on his head the mitre,
And in his hand the golden , jewelled crozier,
Between whom and the white veils the long train
Of black veils headed by the lady abbess,
The great bell all the while the death knell tolling.
Meanwhile two sisters, beckoned by the abbess,
Conducted to the chapel from her cell
The lády Agatha pale, weak and trembling,
And on her knees in front of the crypt's staircase
Pláced her beside a lidless, plain deal coffin.
Of coárse black stuff her raiment; from her head
Behind in loose folds hung the long white veil;
Ón her white néck a crucifix of jet;
A gold, gem-studded hoop on the ring finger;
Behind her and at each side of the crypt stair
Stood motionless the two attendant sisters;

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Behind the crypt the altar hung with black;
And curtained black the doors, lucarnes and windows;
A single dim lamp from the high vault burning.
The tólling ceased as entering the chapel
The sisters ranged themselves in triple file
Half-moon shaped round the entrance of the crypt,
The kneeling Agatha and open coffin,
In each right hand still burning bright the taper.
“Selected child of God," then said the prior
Beside the bishop standing in the midst
And putting into the maid's trembling hand
The very crucifix Saint Ursula
Préssed to her lips upon her martyr day,
“ff of its own free will thine heart accepts
The words thou now shalt hear the bishop utter
Wórds which for ever from the world divide thee,
From father, mother, friends, and house and home,
Brother and sister, all the joys of life -
Swear to the words and kiss the holy rood.”
“Thou swear'st," then said the bishop, "that till death
Thou wilt be faithful to the mother church,
That to the letter thou 'lt observe the rules
And órdinances of Saint Ursula,
Obéy the lady abbess of this convent
In preference to thy father and thy mother,
And love this sisterhood more than thy sisters,
Swear'st that thou 'lt live in chastity perpetual,
Seclúsion, poverty and self-abasement,
And in all things conduct thee as becometh
The bride of Christ, the adopted of the Lord;
And as thou keep'st this oath or break'st it, so
Máy thy soul whén thou diest ascend to heaven }, }
There to live ever in the joy of the Lord,
Or be thrust dówn to hell to dwell for ever

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