As starts the lodger from repose, When flames burst in the door, So suddenly that miller rose, And bounced upon the floor; One stride sufficed to reach the chair; On which his robes were cast; But seemed it to that man an age, Until he grasped them fast. No nimbler does the maiden’s hand Play o’er the keys of sound, Than did that miller’s fingers glide In searching pockets round. In vain he felt from tail to top; The thief had gone before, And harvested a golden crop, While he did dream and snore. Gone was his purse, and all within; A ring he valued more; Gone watch and chain, the diamond pin That on his scarf he wore. His little wife with miser care, (And warning words, no doubt,) With her own hands affixed it there The morning he set out. Enraged, that miller waltzed around, And like his hopper shook: And swore by all the grists he ground, And all the tolls he took, That since the days when he was schooled In games of pitch and toss, He never was so deeply fooled, Or so betrayed to loss! Ten times at least, that pallid man Strove to insinuate His nervous limbs into his pants, But failed to guide them straight. First hop, hop, hop, to left he went, Now, hop, hop, hop, to right! Then hop, hop, backwards, till he rent The pants asunder quite! [Illustration: A ONE-SIDED OPERATION.] Now partly in and partly out, He polka’d here and there, Now _chasse_ up, now _chasse_ back, Then balanced o’er the chair. At last his toilet was complete, The yawning rent was pinned, And out into the narrow street He bolted like the wind. He traveled towards the City Hall, And vowed at every bound That justice would he seek and have, If justice could be found. The milkmen stopped their reckless drive, Or dropped the cup and can, And leaned to catch a glimpse of Dave As down the street he ran. Old women early out to mass When Dave went racking by, Would jump aside to let him pass, Then to each other cry: “The saints protect us! see him go Upon his wild career; A crazy creature well I know, From some asylum near.” Suffice it here to be explained Before I close the tale, The justice David Goyle obtained, Was not of much avail. Go net the sea to catch the whale That did on Jonah dine; Go rake the land to find the stone That slew the Philistine; But seek not her whose hoodwink’d eyes, Proclaim her dealings just; Well hangs her balance in the skies, For here on earth they’d rust. The rumbling stones are grinding now, The water’s rushing down; But do not bet that miller yet Forgets his trip to town. For every waking hour he knows Throughout the twenty-four, His scowling face and muttering shows He counts his losses o’er.