The yew, the yew, the hardy yew! Still greenly may it grow, And health and fun Have everyone That loves the British Bow. II. 'Tis sweet to sit by Beauty's side Beneath the hawthorn shade; But Beauty is more beautiful In green and buff array'd. More radiant are her laughing eyes, Her cheeks of ruddier glow, As, hoping for the envied prize, She twangs the Cambrian bow. The yew, the yew, &c. III. The Fop may curl his Brutus wig, And sandy whiskers stain, And fold his cravat broad and big; But all his arts are vain. His nankeen trowsers we despise, Unfit for rain or dew, And, pinch'd in stays, he vainly tries His strength against the yew. The yew, the yew, &c. IV. The heiress, once, of Bowdale Hall, A lovely lass, I knew-- A Dandy paid his morning call, All dizen'd out to woo. I heard his suit the Coxcomb ply; I heard her answer--"No;" A true love knot he ne'er could tie, Who could not bend a bow. The yew, the yew, &c. {458} * * * * * SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION. (Vol. vii., p. 286.) Leaving the philosophy of this question for the _savans_, I beg to add the following to the alleged cases already referred to. Dr. Lindsley has compiled a table of nineteen instances, from the _Dictionnaire de Medecine_,--not, however, of _spontaneous_ combustion exactly, but of something akin to it; namely, the rapid ignition of the human body (which _per se_ is not combustible) by contact with flame, as a consequence of the saturation of its tissues by alcohol: