’Twas strange, altho’ they got no fees, How still they watch’d by twos and threes, But Jack a very little ease Obtain’d from them; In fact he did not find M. D.’s Worth one D----M. The passing bell with hollow toll Was in his thought--the dreary hole! Jack gave his eyes a horrid roll, And then a cough:-- “There’s something weighing on my soul I wish was off; “All night it roves about my brains, All day it adds to all my pains, It is concerning my remains When I am dead:” Twelve wigs and twelve gold-headed canes Drew near his bed. “Alas!” he sigh’d, “I’m sore afraid A dozen pangs my heart invade; But when I drove a certain trade In flesh and bone, There was a little bargain made About my own.” Twelve suits of black began to close, Twelve pair of sleek and sable hose, Twelve flowing cambric frills in rows, At once drew round; Twelve noses turn’d against his nose, Twelve snubs profound. “Ten guineas did not quite suffice, And so I sold my body twice; Twice did not do--I sold it thrice, Forgive my crimes! In short I have received its price A dozen times!” Twelve brows got very grim and black, Twelve wishes stretched him on the rack, Twelve pair of hands for fierce attack Took up position, Ready to share the dying Jack By long division. Twelve angry doctors wrangled so, That twelve had struck an hour ago, Before they had an eye to throw On the departed; Twelve heads turn’d round at once, and lo! Twelve doctors started. Whether some comrade of the dead, Or Satan took it in his head To steal the corpse--the corpse had fled! ’Tis only written, That “_there was nothing in the bed, But twelve were bitten_!” MISS KILMANSEGG AND HER PRECIOUS LEG. A GOLDEN LEGEND. HER PEDIGREE. To trace the Kilmansegg pedigree To the very root of the family tree Were a task as rash as ridiculous: Through antedilvian mists as thick As London fog such a line to pick Were enough, in truth, to puzzle old Nick,-- Not to name Sir Harris Nicolas. It wouldn’t require much verbal strain To trace the Kil-man, perchance, to Cain, But, waiving all such digressions, Suffice it, according to family lore, A Patriarch Kilmansegg lived of yore, Who was famed for his great possessions.