Don't ask me, Sir, upon what grounds I promise that these rare compounds Exactly as the song propounds, (The music alone, With only a bone,) Shall drive your troubles past all bounds, Or mad thoughts chasing you like hounds; Don't ask me _how_ it drives and drowns, But come and dine on Zounds and Sounds. Finishing the song, I looked about for my flute to find a tune for it, but reflecting that I should wake the house, put it by again for another time. 'After all,' said I, 'a flute couldn't touch that _z_ sound. Indeed what can? What is there like it? Has a church-bell any tone approximating it even? Has a violin? Has a hautboy? Has a French horn? Has a jew's-harp? Ay, that's the thing! A Jew's-harp has something like it; and so--so has a bumble-bee. A thought strikes me! It is possible that Zounds and Sounds are--Yes,' said I, rising and shouting with the excitement, 'Zounds and Sounds are _bumble-bees_!--bumble-bees curiously prepared; gathered in some warm climate where they abound, and pickled! Henceforth let no man call that bee 'humble;' he is _bumble_, most decidedly!' And with this thought I hurried off to bed. . . . It may have been an hour afterward, while I was in the maze between sleeping and waking, that the words 'Zounds and Sounds' escaped me, unawares. 'What's that?' said FANNY, starting up. 'Are you sure that I spoke?' said I. 'Indeed, I am; you said something about going down town.' 'Did I? Well, I forgot to tell you. I _am_ going down town; so you must not be surprised at my rising early to-morrow. I think of breakfasting out.' 'You think! I should think you did; thinking aloud, and asleep too! Don't think so again, dear; you woke me out of a sound sleep.' . . . AT an early hour the next morning, I was at my friend's house. _How_ I got there, I do not now remember; but I have a distinct recollection of a ringing sensation in my head, and of not being quite sure that I was awake, till the romping of a dozen children, and a buzzing sound every where of Zounds and Sounds aroused me to a full sense of the great treat that was coming. Then it was that I sang the last night's song, and it took immensely, especially with the children. HARRY was not there to hear it, and lost that pleasure, (as I have never repeated it,) unless he heard it in the kitchen, where he was superintending the burden of the song. Shortly after, came the call of 'breakfast,' and we all walked in, at least fifteen of us, and took seats at the table before the Zounds and Sounds were brought in. HARRY was already seated at the head. Presently the Zounds came in, piping hot; but before they had reached the table, HARRY turned to me and asked if I had any preference. 'Have you taken the stingers out?' said I, thinking of bumble-bees. 'Stingers!' said HARRY. 'Oh, I beg your pardon,' said I; 'only a joke;' and making a bold guess at some white things that now appeared on the table, added, 'A little of the breast.' HARRY smiled, but