* * * * *

Here a hiatus occurs in the MS.; but from cotemporary authorities we are enabled to state that his lordship was conveyed home at two o’clock on the following morning, by some jolly companions.

  “Slowly and sadly they smoothed his bed,
    And they told his wife and daughter
  To give him, next day, a couple of red-
    Herrings and soda-water.”

* * * * *

THE LOVES OF THE PLANTS.

  The gay Daffodilly, an amorous blade,
    Stole out of his bed in the dark,
  And calling his brother, Jon-Quil, forth he stray’d
  To breathe his love vows to a Violet maid
    Who dwelt in a neighbouring park.

  A spiteful old Nettle-aunt frown’d on their love;
    But Daffy, who laugh’d at her power,
  A Shepherd’s-purse slipp’d in the nurse’s Fox-glove,
  Then up Jacob’s-ladder he crept to his love,
    And stole to the young Virgin’s-bower.

  The Maiden’s-blush Rose—­and she seem’d all dismay’d,
    Array’d in her white Lady’s-smock,
  She call’d Mignonette—­but the sly little jade,
  That instant was hearing a sweet serenade
    From the lips of a tall Hollyhock.

  The Pheasant’s eye, always a mischievous wight,
    For prying out something not good,
  Avow’d that he peep’d through the keyhole that night;
  And clearly discern’d, by a glow-worm’s pale light,
    Their Two-faces-under-a-hood.

  Old Dowager Peony, deaf as a door,
    Who wish’d to know more of the facts,
  Invited Dame Mustard and Miss Hellebore,
  With Miss Periwinkle, and many friends more,
    One evening to tea and to tracts.

  The Butter-cups ranged, defamation ran high,
    While every tongue join’d the debate;
  Miss Sensitive said, ’twixt a groan and a sigh,
  Though she felt much concern’d—­yet she thought her dear Vi—­
    Had grown rather bulbous of late.

  Thus the tale spread about through the busy parterre: 
    Miss Columbine turn’d up her nose,
  And the prude Lady Lavender said, with a stare,
  That her friend, Mary-gold, had been heard to declare,
    The creature had toy’d with the Rose.

  Each Sage look’d severe, and each Cocks-comb look’d gay,
    When Daffy to make their mind easy,
  Miss Violet married one morning in May,
  And, as sure as you live, before next Lady-day,
    She brought him a Michaelmas-daisy.

* * * * *

NOTHING WONDERFUL.

The Duke of Normandie accounts for the non-explosion of his percussion-shells, by the fact of having incautiously used some of M’Culloch’s pamphlets on the corn laws.  If this be the case, no person can be surprised at their not going off.