For men who’d shoot a sparrow, Or immolate a worm Beneath a farmer’s harrow, He could not find a term. Humanely, ay, and knightly He dealt with such an one; He took and tied him tightly, And blew him from a gun. The earth has armies plenty, And semi-warlike bands, I’m certain there are twenty In European lands; But, oh! in no direction You’d find one to compare In brotherly affection With that of COLONEL FLARE. LOST MR. BLAKE MR. BLAKE was a regular out-and-out hardened sinner, Who was quite out of the pale of Christianity, so to speak, He was in the habit of smoking a long pipe and drinking a glass of grog on a Sunday after dinner, And seldom thought of going to church more than twice or—if Good Friday or Christmas Day happened to come in it—three times a week. He was quite indifferent as to the particular kinds of dresses That the clergyman wore at church where he used to go to pray, And whatever he did in the way of relieving a chap’s distresses, He always did in a nasty, sneaking, underhanded, hole-and-corner sort of way. I have known him indulge in profane, ungentlemanly emphatics, When the Protestant Church has been divided on the subject of the proper width of a chasuble’s hem; I have even known him to sneer at albs—and as for dalmatics, Words can’t convey an idea of the contempt he expressed for _them_. He didn’t believe in persons who, not being well off themselves, are obliged to confine their charitable exertions to collecting money from wealthier people, And looked upon individuals of the former class as ecclesiastical hawks; He used to say that he would no more think of interfering with his priest’s robes than with his church or his steeple, And that he did not consider his soul imperilled because somebody over whom he had no influence whatever, chose to dress himself up like an exaggerated GUY FAWKES. This shocking old vagabond was so unutterably shameless That he actually went a-courting a very respectable and pious middle-aged sister, by the name of BIGGS. She was a rather attractive widow, whose life as such had always been particularly blameless; Her first husband had left her a secure but moderate competence, owing to some fortunate speculations in the matter of figs. She was an excellent person in every way—and won the respect even of MRS. GRUNDY, She was a good housewife, too, and wouldn’t have wasted a penny if she had owned the Koh-i-noor. She was just as strict as he was lax in her observance of Sunday, And being a good economist, and charitable besides, she took all the bones and cold potatoes and broken pie-crusts and candle-ends (when she had quite done with them), and made them into an excellent soup for the deserving poor.