"Oh," said Jonas, "like you He some excuse too Most likely will give us for coming so late. But as hunger grows stronger, We will tarry no longer, For hunger will not for a priest even wait." "Stay, for him I'll atone, 'Tis no fault of his own," Said Murphy; I'm certain he'd choose (From the little I know), Through great dangers to go, Than such a superb banquet lose." * * * * * _CHAPTER THE SIXTH._ Who has never beheld when an old lady slips On the pavement of wood, which her toe upward trips, A dense crowd bustle round, quick as bees to a hive, While in vain she, though fainting, for fresh air may strive? Or when, at the close of a hot summer's day, As the sun tints the lake with his bright crimson ray, Who has never remarked how the fishes will rise If you throw in some bread, while to seize on the prize They will upset each other, and splutter about, Till their heads and their tails from the river peep out? So exactly it was at the time I am speaking, Ev'ry one for himself is the best place out seeking, Taking care a nice dish shall stand nearly before him, With some fair one by side he would fain have adore him. Now a passage to quote from an elegant Poet, Whose name I can't tell, for I really don't know it; It is not from Byron, or Chaucer, or Pope, Or Milton, or Cowper, and I therefore must hope You won't search through their writings to find it-- Let me see, is it Shakespeare's? no, 'tis n't his either; Nor More's, Prior's, Dryden's--of theirs it is neither. Where can I have read it? I cannot remember, I might waste all my time from Spring to December, In trying to think--so don't mind it. But I've heard that you ought, When you borrow a thought, Just to mention the place whence you brought it. Still, although this seems right, 'Tis not possible quite, To kill even a flea till you've caught it. The quotation I'd note Was a fable one wrote, As a means to convey information. Like a sandwich, between May a moral be seen, Wrapped up in a pleasant narration.