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WELL now I'm sure I don't know why in the world it was

pút there,

Standing up in the middle of the face like the gnomon of a súndial,

Very much, as one would say, in the way of the passers by, And exposed to heat and cold, wet and dry, all the winds that blow.

Don't tell me that it was for the sake of beaúty it was ever set up there,

Still less that it was for utility, i. e. by way of a handle, And as to the hints I sómetimes hear that it was out of mere whim or vagary,

I assure you I'm not the man to lend an ear to insinuations of that sort.

But I'll tell you the idea that has just now flashed acróss

my mind

And which of course I hold myself at liberty to correct as I

improve in knowledge,

For these are improving times, as you know, and the whole world's in progress,

And the only wonder is, that with all our advancement we 're so very far behind yet.

Now my idea 's neither móre nor less than that it was set up where it is simply because God Hadn't, or couldn't at the moment find, a more convenient spot to put it in;

And I'm further of opinion that if you or I had had the placing of it,

It's no better but a thousand times worse it would have been placed than now it is.

For while I admit that it does indeed at first sight seem a little too far forward set,

Like a camp picket or vedette upon the very fore front and edge of danger,

Still there's no denying the solidity and security of its basis, And that it rarely if ever happens it 's obliged to evacuate its position.

Why, I've seen an enemy come up to it in a towering fit of passion, And with his right hand clenched till it looked like a sledgehammer or mason's mallet

Strike it such a blow right in the face as you 'd swear must annihilate it,

Or at least send its ghost down dolefully whimpering to Orcus.

Nay, I've seen its best friend and nearest earthly relative With a giant's grasp lay hold of it, and squeeze it between finger and thumb,

Till it roared with downright agony as loud as a braying ass or élephant,

And yet, the moment after, it seemed not a hair the worse but rather refréshed by it.

But all this is scarce worth mentioning in comparison of what I've seen it bear

At the hands of that same nátural friend, ally, and protector, Who twenty times a day or, if the humor happened so to take him, A húndred times a day would in one of the dark cellars under it

Explóde all on a sudden so strong a détonating powder That you there never yet was iron tower or vaulted granite casemate

'a say

That wouldn't have tumbled down incontinent at the very first

concussion,

And yet that wondrous piece of flesh and bone seemed but to take delight in it.

But, setting aside these wholly minor and secondary consi

derations,

What would you say of an architect who had constrúcted a face With a pair of eyes staring, one on the right side and the other on the left side of it,

And yet had made no manner of provision at all for the support of a pair of spéctacles?

So avaunt with your idle criticisms, your good-for-nothing stuff and twaddle,

Such as one dozes over a-nights in the Quarterly just before one goes to bed,

And let me have a pinch out of your canister, for I know it's the genuine Lundy

More care-easing even than Nepenthe, than Ambrosia more odoriferous.

DALKEY LODGE, DALKEY (IRELAND), Dec. 16, 1854.

ÓN the day before the first day

Gód was tired with dóing nothing,
Ánd determined to rise early
Ón the next day and do sómething.

Só upon the next day Gód rose
Véry early, and the light made
You must know that úntil that day
Gód had always lived in dárkness:

"Bravo! brávo! thát 's a good job," Said God when his eye the light caught; "Nów I think I'll try and make me Á convénient pláce to live in."

Só upon the next day Gód rose

At the dawn of light, and heaven made, Ánd from that day forward néver

Wanted á snug box to live in.

"Well! a little work is pleasant," Said God, "ánd besides it 's useful; What a pity í ’ve so lỏng sat

Dúmping, múmping, dóing nothing!"

Só upon the third day Gód made

This round báll of land and water
And with right thumb and forefinger
Sét it like teetótum spinning;

Spinning twirling like teetótum,
Round and roúnd aboút, the ball went,
While God clapped his hands, delighted,
And called th' ángels to look at it.

Who made th' ángels? if you ask me,
Í reply: that's more than I know;
Fór if God had, Í don't doubt but
Hé 'd have put them in his catalogue.

Bút no matter sóme one máde them, And they came aboút him flócking, Wóndering at the súdden fit of Mánufacturing that had taken him:

"Ít 's a prétty báll,” they áll said; "Dó pray tell us what 's the use of it; Won't you make a great many of them? We would like to see them trúndling."

"Wait until tomorrow," said God,
"Ánd I think I'll show you something;

This is quite enough for óne day,
And you knów I 'm bút beginning."

Só aboút noon on the fourth day,
Gód called th' ángels áll about him,
Ánd showed them the great big ball he 'd
Máde to give light to the little one.

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