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I do so, and once off, he slanders me!
An end of him! Begin elsewhere anew!
Boston 's a hole, the herring-pond is wide,
V-notes are something, liberty still more!
Beside, is he the only fool in the world ?

Ꭺ Ꮲ Ꮲ A Ꭱ ENT F A I L U Ꭱ Ꭼ .

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APPARENT FAILURE.

“We shall soon lose a celebrated building."

Paris Newspaper.

No, for I 'll save it! Seven years since,

I passed through Paris, stopped a day To see the baptism of your Prince ;

Saw, made my bow, and went my way: Walking the heat and headache off,

I took the Seine-side, you surmise, Thought of the Congress, Gortschakoff,

Cavour's appeal and Buol's replies, So sauntered till — what met my eyes ?

2.

Only the Doric little Morgue !

The dead-house where you show your drowned : Petrarch's Vaucluse makes proud the Sorgue,

Your Morgue has made the Seine renowned.

One pays one's debt in such a case ;

I plucked up heart and entered, — stalked, Keeping a tolerable face

Compared with some whose cheeks were chalked: Let them! No Briton's to be balked !

First came the silent gazers ; next,

A screen of glass, we're thankful for ; Last, the sight's self, the sermon's text,

The three men who did most abhor Their life in Paris yesterday,

So killed themselves : and now, enthroned
Each on his copper couch, they lay

Fronting me, waiting to be owned.
I thought, and think, their sin 's atoned.

Poor men, God made, and all for that!

The reverence struck me ; o'er each head Religiously was hung its hat,

Each coat dripped by the owner's bed, Sacred from touch : each had his berth,

His bounds, his proper place of rest,

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