Birds in St. Stephen's garden, Mocking birds, were bawling-- "Lord, Lord, Lord, John!" They were crying and calling. Where was John? In a fix! Gone to Vienna, whither They'd sent him out of the way,-- Tories and Whigs together. Birds in St. Stephen's sang, Chattering, chattering round him-- "John is here, here, here, Back too soon, confound him!" They saw his dirty hands! Meekly he bore their punning; John[13] is not seventy yet, But he's very little and cunning. He to show up himself! How can he ever explain it? John were certain of place, If shuffling could retain it. * * * * * Look, a cab at the door, Dizzy has snarled for an hour; Go back, my Lord, for you're a bore, And at last you're out of power. _Our Miscellany._ (Which ought to have come out, but didn't). * * * * * GRANNY'S HOUSE. Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 'tis early morn, Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the dinner horn. 'Tis the place, and all about it, as of old, the rat and mouse Very loudly squeak and nibble, running over Granny's house;-- Granny's house, with all its cupboards, and its rooms as neat as wax, And its chairs of wood unpainted, where the old cats rubbed their backs. Many a night from yonder garret window, ere I went to rest, Did I see the cows and horses come in slowly from the west; Many a night I saw the chickens, flying upward through the trees, Roosting on the sleety branches, when I thought their feet would freeze; Here about the garden wandered, nourishing a youth sublime With the beans, and sweet potatoes, and the melons which were prime; When the pumpkin-vines behind me with their precious fruit reposed, When I clung about the pear-tree, for the promise that it closed. When I dipt into the dinner far as human eye could see, Saw the vision of the pie, and all the dessert that would be. In the spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast; In the spring the noisy pullet gets herself another nest; In the spring a livelier spirit makes the ladies' tongues more glib; In the spring a young boy's fancy lightly hatches up a fib. Then her cheek was plump and fatter than should be for one so old, And she eyed my every motion, with a mute intent to scold. And I said, "My worthy Granny, now I speak the truth to thee,-- "Better believe it,--I have eaten all the apples from one tree." On her kindling cheek and forehead came a colour and a light, As I have seen the rosy red flashing in the northern night; And she turned,--her fist was shaken at the coolness of the lie; She was mad, and I could see it, by the snapping of her eye, Saying, "I have hid my feelings, fearing they should do thee wrong,"--