Ah! distinctly I remember It was in that wet September, When the earth and every member Of creation that it bore Had for days and weeks been soaking In the meanest, most provoking Foggy rains that, without joking, We had ever seen before; So I knew it must be very Cold and damp beneath the floor―― Very cold beneath the floor. So I sat me nearly napping, In the sunshine, stretching, gaping, Craving water, but delighted With the breeze from ’neath the floor, Till I found me waxing colder, And the stretching growing bolder, And myself a feeling older―― Older than I’d felt before; Feeling that my joints were stiffer Than they were in days of yore―― Stiffer than they’d been before. All along my back the creeping Soon gave place to rushing, leaping, As if countless frozen demons Had concluded to explore All the cavities――the “varmints”―― ’Twixt me and my nether garments, Up into my hair and downward Through my boots into the floor; Then I found myself a shaking, Gently first, but more and more―― Every moment more and more. ’Twas the “ager,” and it shook me Into many clothes, and took me Shaking to the kitchen――every Place where there was warmth in store; Shaking till the dishes clattered, Shaking till the tea was spattered, Shaking, and with all my warming Feeling colder than before; Shaking till it had exhausted All its powers to shake me more―― Till it could not shake me more. Then it rested till the morrow, Then resumed with all the horror That it had the face to borrow, Shaking, shaking as before; And from that day in September―― Day that I shall long remember―― It has made diurnal visits, Shaking, shaking, oh so sore! Shaking off my boots, and shaking Me to bed, if nothing more―― Fully this, if nothing more. And to-day the swallows flitting Round my cottage see me sitting Moodily within the sunshine Just inside my silent door, Waiting for the ages, seeming Like a man forever dreaming, And the sunlight on me streaming Throws no shadows on the floor; For I am too thin and sallow To make shadows on the floor; ’Nary shadow――any more! ―――――――― THE CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER AND THE SURPLUS. Lately on a midnight dreary, whilst I studied, though so weary, Several sheets of close-writ figures I had gone through times before; Whilst I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at the Treasury door. “Is that Kempe?” I slowly mutter’d. “If it is, pray leave the door―― I shall want you here no more!”