"But, changing hands, it reached at length a Puritan divine, Who used to follow Timothy, and take a little wine, But hated punch and prelacy; and so it was, perhaps, He went to Leyden, where he found conventicles and schnaps. "And then, of course, you know what's next,--it left the Dutchman's shore With those that in the Mayflower came,--a hundred souls and more,-- Along with all the furniture, to fill their new abodes,-- To judge by what is still on hand, at least a hundred loads. "'T was on a dreary winter's eve, the night was closing dim, When brave Miles Standish took the bowl, and filled it to the brim; The little Captain stood and stirred the posset with his sword, And all his sturdy men-at-arms were ranged about the board. "He poured the fiery Hollands in,--the man that never feared,-- He took a long and solemn draught, and wiped his yellow beard; And one by one the musketeers--the men that fought and prayed-- All drank as 't were their mother's milk, and not a man afraid. "That night, affrighted from his nest, the screaming eagle flew, He heard the Pequot's ringing whoop, the soldier's wild halloo; And there the sachem learned the rule he taught to kith and kin, 'Run from the white man when you find he smells of Hollands gin!'" In his _Nux Postcoenatica_ he gives us his reflections on being invited to a dinner-party, where he was expected to "set the table in a roar" by reading funny verses. He submits it to the judgment and common sense of the importunate bearer of the invitation, that this dinner-going, ballad- making, mirth-provoking habit is not likely to benefit his reputation as a medical professor. "Besides, my prospects. Don't you know that people won't employ A man that wrongs his manliness by laughing like a boy, And suspect the azure blossom that unfolds upon a shoot, As if Wisdom's oldpotato could not flourish at its root? "It's a very fine reflection, when you're etching out a smile On a copperplate of faces that would stretch into a mile. That, what with sneers from enemies and cheapening shrugs from friends, It will cost you all the earnings that a month of labor lends." There are, as might be expected, some commonplace pieces in the volume,-- a few failures in the line of humor. The _Spectre Pig_, the _Dorchester Giant_, the _Height of the Ridiculous_, and one or two others might be omitted in the next edition without detriment. They would do well enough for an amateur humorist, but are scarcely worthy of one who stands at the head of the profession.