As a specimen of what the human mind can effect in the way of amatory poetry, we take the following from a journal of the period: When Carlo sits in Sally’s chair, Oh, don’t I wish that I were there! When her fairy fingers pat his head, Oh, don’t I wish ’twas me instead! When Sally’s arms his neck imprison, Oh, don’t I wish my neck was his’n! When Sally kisses Carlo’s nose, Oh, don’t I wish that I were those! THE PUBLICAN’S DAUGHTER. In George Colman’s musical farce, “The Review, or the Wags of Windsor,” Looney Mactwolter falls in love with Judy O’Flannikin: Judy’s a darling; my kisses she suffers: She’s an heiress, that’s clear, For her father sells beer; He keeps the sign of the Cow and the Snuffers. * * * * * In Hood’s “Retrospective Review,” “Oh, when I was a tiny boy,” etc., occurs this stanza: Oh for the lessons learned by heart! Ay, though the very birch’s smart Should mark those hours again; I’d “kiss the rod,” and be resigned Beneath the strokes, and even find Some sugar in the cane! * * * * * In Robert Southey’s “Love Elegies,” the poet relates how he obtained Delia’s pocket-handkerchief, and shows that “the eighth commandment was not made for love,” when he proceeds as follows: Here, when she took the macaroons from me, She wiped her mouth to clean the crumbs so sweet! Dear napkin! yes, she wiped her lips in thee,— Lips sweeter than the macaroons she eat. And when she took that pinch of Maccabaw That made my love so delicately sneeze, Thee to her Roman nose applied I saw; And thou art doubly dear for things like these. No washerwoman’s filthy hand shall e’er, Sweet pocket-handkerchief! thy worth profane; For thou hast touched the rubies of my fair, And I will kiss thee o’er and o’er again. * * * * * Scotch song abounds with pleasant allusions to the custom of kissing, like this, for example, from a well-known West Highland ditty: Dumbarton’s drums beat bonnie, O, When they mind me o’ my dear Johnny, O; How happy am I, When my soldier is by, When he kisses and blesses his Annie, O! ’Tis a soldier alone can delight me, O,[17] For his graceful looks do invite me, O; Whilst guarded in his arms, I’ll fear no war’s alarms, Neither danger nor death shall e’er fright me, O. ROBIN GOODFELLOW. When lads and lasses merry be, With possets and with junkets fine, Unseen of all the company I eat their cakes and sip their wine, And, to make sport, I whoop and snort, And out the candles I do blow: The maids I kiss: They shriek, “Who’s this?” I answer nought but ho, ho, ho![18] NOSES.