Soon the traders upped hook, and the editor talked edifyin’ All about lucre and dross; and the lawyer convened it was awful; Till one mornin’ trampoused the lawyer and editor with him. Off were the trappers for beaver, they said, but “it warn’t noways likely,” NATHAN remarked, “they would strike beaver-trail in them there locations.” Then the captings went too, they said, to bring back their sailors; And as it stands to natur’, their customers followed the captings. Next the Meetin’s they thinned――that’s a fact――till, down to the elders, Dropped, like leaves in the fall, congregations of e’en the awakened. Ontil the deacon was forced to look arter the flock of backsliders, Minister mizzlin’ himself, before long, to look arter the deacon. Why should NATHAN hold on, with his bar of its customers empty, Strawers unsucked in the cobblers, and mint unplucked in the garding, Swopped his prime tin doin’s, or sold to the uttermost pipkin? So he went――but before him the helps, black and Irish, had vanished. Lone in the shanty she lingered, the fair and forlorn DOLLARINA―― Lone like a flower, in the face of great natur’, and GOVERNOR TARBOX! Blushin’ she bowed to the governor’s snigger, when first to his bed-room, Bearin’ his boots and his breakfast, she came like a minist’rin’ angel―― Blushin’ she raised her bright face――and the Governor swore catawampus, “Burn my old bree――that is, boots――gals like you didn’t ought for to do it.” ――Soft was the heart of Great TARBOX, and most horrid hansum the maiden, Loftily spoke he of goold, and the tarnal low hitch of the humans, Leavin’ such gals all alone, to go the whole hog at the washin’s. Sweetly she’d set there beside him, the while with his governor’s hands he Washed his own dicky or fried his simple repast of pork fixins; Sweetly she sot there beside him, and TARBOX a-slavin’ was happy! Still now and then that bright eye from its tail would glance up to the mountains, And a faint sigh be the echo of TARBOXES glowin’ soft sawder; Oft in her pail of ablution he’d catch her a rinsin’ the water; And once she ventured to murmur, “I wonder what nateral goold’s like.” ――Down came the moment at last――set TARBOX a-mendin’ his shoe-sole, Breathin’ his love in a Sonnet, and chawin’ a plug of tobaccer―― Entered the maiden so stately――and bowin’ her beauty before him, Smilingly, sobbingly uttered, “Adoo――I am off for the diggins!” * * * * * Burst the full heart of Great TARBOX―――― (_Here the MSS., becomes illegible, apparently from tears_). _Punch_, January 20, 1849. ―――――――― THE LOST TAILS OF MILETUS.