Rudolph, professor of the headsman’s trade, Alike was famous for his arm and blade. One day a prisoner Justice had to kill Knelt at the block to test the artist’s skill. Bare-armed, swart-visaged, gaunt, and shaggy-browed, Rudolph the headsman rose above the crowd. His falchion lightened with a sudden gleam, As the pike’s armor flashes in the stream. He sheathed his blade; he turned as if to go; The victim knelt, still waiting for the blow. “Why strikest not? Perform thy murderous act,” The prisoner said. (Hs voice was slightly cracked.) “Friend I _have_ struck,” the artist straight replied; “Wait but one moment, and yourself decide.” He held his snuff-box,—“Now then, if you please!” The prisoner sniffed, and, with a crashing sneeze, Off his head tumbled,—bowled along the floor,— Bounced down the steps;—the prisoner said no more! Woman! thy falchion is a glittering eye; If death lurks in it, oh, how sweet to die! Thou takest hearts as Rudolph took the head; We die with love, and never dream we’re dead! The prologue went off very well, as I hear. No alterations were suggested by the lady to whom it was sent, so far as I know. Sometimes people criticize the poems one sends them, and suggest all sorts of improvements. Who was that silly body that wanted Burns to alter “Scots wha hae,” so as to lengthen the last line, thus “_Edward_!” Chains and slavery! Here is a little poem I sent a short time since to a committee for a certain celebration. I understood that it was to be a festive and convivial occasion, and ordered myself accordingly. It seems the president of the day was what is called a “teetotaller.” I received a note from him in the following words, containing the copy subjoined, with the emendations annexed to it. “Dear Sir,—your poem gives good satisfaction to the committee. The sentiments expressed with reference to liquor are not, however, those generally entertained by this community. I have therefore consulted the clergyman of this place, who has made come slight changes, which he thinks will remove all objections, and keep the valuable portions of the poem. Please to inform me of your charge for said poem. Our means are limited, etc., etc., etc. Yours with respect.” HERE IT IS—WITH THE _SLIGHT ALTERATIONS_! Come! fill a fresh bumper,—for why should we go While the [nectar → logwood] still reddens our cups as they flow? Pour out the [rich juices → decoction] still bright with the sun, Till o’er the brimmed crystal the [rubies → dye-stuff] shall run.