But practised in Shakspearian readings daily,-- O! Miss Macaulay! Shakspeare at Hog’s Norton!-- Miss Anne Priscilla Isabella Grayley Selected _him_ that evening to snort on. In short, to make our story not a big tale, Just fancy her exerting Her talents, and converting The Winter’s Tale to something like a pig-tale! Her sister auditory All sitting round, with grave and learned faces, Were very plauditory, Of course, and clapped her at the proper places. Till fanned at once by fortune and the Muse, She thought herself the blessedest of Blues. But Happiness, alas! has blights of ill, And Pleasure’s bubbles in the air explode;-- There is no travelling through life but still The heart will meet with breakers on the road! With that peculiar voice Heard only from Hog’s Norton throats and noses, Miss G., with Perdita, was making choice Of buds and blossoms for her summer posies, When coming to that line, where Proserpine Lets fall her flowers from the wain of Dis; Imagine this-- Uprose on his hind legs old Farmer Grayley, Grunting this question for the club’s digestion, “Do _Dis’s Waggon_ go from the Ould Bäaley?” THE SUB-MARINE. It was a brave and jolly wight, His cheek was baked and brown, For he had been in many climes With captains of renown, And fought with those who fought so well At Nile and Camperdown. His coat it was a soldier coat, Of red with yellow faced, But (merman-like) he look’d marine All downward from the waist; His trowsers were so wide and blue, And quite in sailor taste! He put the rummer to his lips, And drank a jolly draught; He raised the rummer many times-- And ever as he quaff’d, The more he drank the more the ship Seem’d pitching fore and aft! The ship seem’d pitching fore and aft, As in a heavy squall; It gave a lurch and down he went, Head-foremost in his fall! Three times he did not rise, alas! He never rose at all! But down he went, right down at once Like any stone he dived, He could not see, or hear, or feel-- Of senses all deprived! At last he gave a look around To see where he arrived! And all that he could see was green, Sea-green on every hand! And then he tried to sound beneath, And all he felt was sand! There he was fain to lie, for he Could neither sit nor stand! And lo! above his head there bent A strange and staring lass; One hand was in her yellow hair, The other held a glass; A mermaid she must surely be If ever mermaid was!