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Theodor was on his knee to
Lovely Judith with the fair hair;
While from Hermann's grasp Louisa
Faintly strove to draw her fingers;

Lottchen runs, but, out of breath soon,
Is by nimble Hans o'ertaken,
And made to sit down beside him,
Will-she nill-she, on the green bank;

Magdalena artless maiden!
Fears that Hilpert may his neck break
As he slips down from a high branch,
And holds out her hand to help him;

Hilpert on the helping hand a
Bright gold ring puts could you blame him?
Magdalena - didn't she do right?
Let the ring bide where he put it.

"Stay! for God's sake stay," cried Ellen,
“Till I go and fetch a ladder”
But, before the word was finished,
Max stood hand in hand with Ellen.

Robert still was in the tree, and
Engelbert, a cat's sleep sleeping,
Neither Rosamond nor Minna
How to hollo knew, or whistle;

So they gathered up shed acorns,
And with both hands so the two youths
Peppered that they quickly wakened
Out of their feigned sleep and came down,

And surrendered on so fair terms
That not one of the nine maidens,
Unless it were Rosamunda,
Half so happy was as Minna.

Once upon a time in Cracow,
I 've heard say and do believe it,
In a honeysuckle arbour,
With their sweethearts sat nine maidens;

Merrier never met nine maidens,
Than the nine met, that same evening,
In the honeysuckle arbour,
Every one linked with her good man;

And the talk was all of roses,
Wedding feasts, and rings and posies,
And where best they would live, and thrive most;
Not one word, where they'd be buried.

And the traveller 's, to this day, shown,
As through Cracow wood he passes,
The decayed trunk of that old oak,
And hears tell of the nine maidens.

Begun walking from KÖNIGSWART to EINSIEDL, Aug. 14; finished at Neu

near Plass, BOHEMIA, ug. 16, 1860.

DL

ADVICE.

"USELESS is wise advice and thrown away
Unless the advised 's as wise as the adviser,
For in that case alone the advice is taken;
Useless is wise advice and thrown away
If the advised 's as wise as the adviser,
For in that case no wise advice is needed;
Thrown away, then, and useless in all cases
Is wise advice, and he's a fool who gives it.”
I said, and closed the book I had in hand,
And read no more, and went upon my way
Rejoicing in mine own thoughts. Courteous reader,

Do thou the same by me, and I 'll not blame thee.
Walking from BIESCHIN to CZACHRAU (BOHEMIA), Aug. 20, 1860.

ONCE on a time it happened, it 's full many a year ago,
I met a carle with shoulders stooped and beard as white as snow,
And all within myself I said, as I passed proudly by,
“That 's a good-for-nothing old man, and a stout, brave youth

am I.”

That old man 's dead and buried, it 's full many a year ago, And mine are now the shoulders stooped and beard as white

as snow, And in their hearts the young men say, as they pass me

proudly by, “That 's a good-for-nothing old man, it 's high time he

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should die.”

ZWIESEL, BAVARIA, Aug. 21, 1860.

"An oaken, broken elbow-chair, A caudle cup without an ear.”

SWIFT

FOLLOWING the example of Saint Patrick's dean

Not always, I must own, a good example, And the Venusian's maxim 's but too true: No one 's in all respects a good example I note here, in an inventory, down My bedroom's furniture and apparatus In Johann Stadler's inn in Lamprechtshausen, Where I arrived last night and supped and slept, And early woke this morning, August thirtieth, Of Christ's year Eighteen hundred and threescore, And, lazy-bones, abed lie, protocolling, And yoking wardrobes, beds, and chairs and tables To my triumphant Muse's car sublime.

Two beds, imprimis, lengthwise by the wall,
One for myself, the other for my daughter,
With overbeds of down, and pillows, heaped;
Opposite, two windows with bright shining panes
And spotless, lace-trimmed, muslin curtains white.
Flower-pots, outside, support with trellis-work
Diminutive ivy, or permit Jove's flower
Exuberant to overhang their rims

And fearless swing, as from its native rock,
Full two foot down, in air. Clove perfume steals
In with Sol's greetings through the open sash,
And resting swallows twitter on the sill.

Not Hermes statuettes our pillows guard

It 's many a day since Thoth reigned, and men trusted
Their sleeping persons to the God of thieves
But over each bed hangs upon the wall
A cup of holy water, to keep off
Ghosts and malignant demons, and at hand
To help, if help be needed, an embossed
Madonna likeness on white satin paper,
Glazed and in walnut framed; not even Saint Columb’s
Brilliant illumination sets more true

Well if so true – the fair original forth,
Or more the heart of the beholder wins
To heaven and holy Church. A walnut press
At one bed's head, along the wall, close locked
Excludes the prying eye and pilfering hand,
And carries on its cornice, ranged in order,
Thirteen sweet-smelling, large, ripe, rosy apples,

Keep far, far off from Lamprechtshausen inn,
Ye nineteenth-century travelling Eves and Adams!
Behind which, five glass pickle-pots stand stately,
Crammed to the throat with gherkins, the abhorrence
Of acid stomachs, and tight corked and sealed.
Between the beds, the altar of the Graces,
With looking-glass and jugs and basins, furnished,
And crofts of water and soft diaper towels,
Invites to worship, nor invites in vain;
Never caged pair of linnets, or uncaged,
So joyous spattered the lustrating lymph,
Dipping again, and dipping, and all round

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