There's a little dispute with a merchant of fruit,

Who is said to be heterodox,

That will ended be with a "Ma foi, oui!"
And a pinch from the Cure's box.

There is also a word that no one heard
To the furrier's daughter, Lou;
And a pale cheek fed with a flickering red,
And a "Bon dieu garde M'sieu!"

But a grander way for the Sous-Préfet,
And a bow for Ma'm'selle Anne;
And a mock" off-hat" to the Notary's cat,
And a nod to the Sacristan :-

Forever through life the Curé goes,

With a smile on his kind old face

With his coat worn bare, and his straggling hair,

On the lips that he has pressed
In their bloom;

And the names he loved to hear
Have been carved for many a year
On the tomb.

My grandmamma has said

Poor old lady! she is dead
Long ago-

That he had a Roman nose,

And his cheek was like a rose
In the snow.

But now his nose is thin,

And it rests upon his chin
Like a staff;

And a crook is in his back
And a melancholy crack
In his laugh.

I know it is a sin

For me to sit and grin
At him here;

But the old three-cornered hat,
And the breeches, and all that,
Are so queer!

And if I should live to be
The last leaf upon the tree
In the Spring,

Let them smile as I do now
At the old forsaken bough
Where I cling.

SAINT PANCRAS BELL.

SHIRLEY BROOKS.

A SOUND came booming through the air!
"What is that sound?" quoth I.
My blue-eyed pet, with golden hair,
Made answer, presently,

66

Papa, you know it very well;

That sound it was Saint Pancras bell."

66

My own Louise, put down the cat

And come and stand by me;

I'm sad to hear you talk like that,
Where's your philosophy?

That sound-attend to what I tell

That sound was not Saint Pancras bell.

"Sound is the name the sage selects,

For the concluding term

Of a long series of effects,

Of which that blow's the germ.

The following brief analysis
Shows the interpolations, Miss.

"The blow which, when the clapper slips,

Falls on your friend, the bell, Changes its circle to ellipse

(A word you'd better spell), And then comes elasticity, Restoring what it used to be.

"Nay, making it a little more;
The circle shifts about,

As much as it shrunk in before,
The bell, you see, swells out;

And so a new ellipse is made,
(You're not attending, I'm afraid.)

"This change of form disturbs the air,

Which, in its turn behaves

In like elastic fashion there,

Creating waves on waves;

Which press

each other onward, dear,

Until the outmost finds your ear.

"Within that ear the surgeons find
A tympanum, or drum,

Which has a little bone behind —
Malleus, it's called by some;
Those not proud of Latin grammar
Humbly translate it as the hammer.

"The wave's vibrations this transmits To this, the incus bone

(Incus means anvil, which it hits), And this transfers the tone

To the small os orbiculare,

The tiniest bone that people carry.

"The stapes next - the name recalls A stirrup's form, my daughterJoins three half-circular canals

Each filled with limpid water; Their curious lining you'll observe, Made of the auditory nerve.

The mystic work is crowned;

For then my daughter's gentle mind

First recognizes sound.

See what a host of causes swell

To make up what you call the 'bell.'

Awhile she paused my bright Louise, And pondered on the case;