With presence of mind that was marvellous quite, The fair Mariana replied that he might; So in through the portal rode young Lochinvar, Pre-empted the claim, and cleaned out the bar. Though the justice allowed he wa'n't wholly to blame, He taxed him ten dollars and costs, just the same. THE NAUGHTY DOLL. MY dolly is a dreadful care,-- Her name is Miss Amandy; I dress her up and curl her hair, And feed her taffy candy. Yet, heedless of the pleading voice Of her devoted mother, She will not wed her mother's choice, But says she'll wed another. I'd have her wed the china vase,-- There is no Dresden rarer; You might go searching every place And never find a fairer. He is a gentle, pinkish youth,-- Of that there's no denying; Yet when I speak of him, forsooth! Amandy falls to crying. She loves the drum,--that's very plain,-- And scorns the vase so clever, And, weeping, vows she will remain A spinster doll forever! The protestations of the drum I am convinced are hollow; When once distressing times should come How soon would ruin follow! Yet all in vain the Dresden boy From yonder mantel woos her; A mania for that vulgar toy, The noisy drum, imbues her. In vain I wheel her to and fro, And reason with her mildly: Her waxen tears in torrents flow, Her sawdust heart beats wildly. I'm sure that when I'm big and tall, And wear long trailing dresses, I sha'n't encourage beaux at all Till mamma acquiesces; Our choice will be a suitor then As pretty as this vase is,-- Oh, how we'll hate the noisy men With whiskers on their faces! THE PNEUMOGASTRIC NERVE. UPON an average, twice a week, When anguish clouds my brow, My good physician friend I seek To know "what ails me now." He taps me on the back and chest, And scans my tongue for bile, And lays an ear against my breast And listens there awhile; Then is he ready to admit That all he can observe Is something wrong inside, to wit: My pneumogastric nerve!