"If a bread-pudding thou wouldst fondly make-- A thing nutritious, but no costly meal-- Of bread that's stale a due proportion take, And soak in water warm enough to feel; Then add a strip or two of lemon-peel, With curdled milk and raisins to your taste, And stir the whole with ordinary zeal, Until the mass becomes a luscious paste. Such pudding strengthens man, and doth involve no waste. "See thou thy husband's feet are never wet-- For wet brings cold, and colds such direful aches As old Parrhasius never felt when set On cruel racks or slow impaling stakes. Make him abstain, if sick, from griddle-cakes-- They, being rich, his stomach might derange-- And if in thin-soled shoes a walk he takes, See that his stockings he doth quickly change. Thus should thy woman's love through woman's duties range. "And now, fair maiden, all the stars grow pale, And teeming Nature drinks the morning dews; And I must hasten to my Orient vale, And quick put on a pair of over-shoes. If from my words your woman's heart may choose To find a guidance for a future way, The Olympian impulse and the lyric muse In such approval shall accept their pay. And so, good-day, young girl--ah me! oh my! good-day. "EDWARD EVERDEVOURED." As the solid Boston man finished reading this useful poem, he looked impressively at me, and says he: "There's domestic eloquence for you! The Honorable Edward is liberal in his views," says he, enthusiastically, "and treats his subject with some latitude." "Yes," says I, thoughtfully, "but they call it Platitude, sometimes." He didn't hear me, my boy. It is with raptures, my boy, that I record the promotion of Villiam Brown, Company 3, Regiment 5, Mackerel Brigade, to the rank of Captain, with the privilege of spending half his time in New York, and the rest of it on Broadway. Villiam left the army of the Upper Potomac to pass his examination here, and the Board of Examiners report that he reminded them of Napoleon, and made them feel sorry for the Duke of Wellington. One of the questions they asked him was: "Suppose your company was suddenly surrounded by a regiment of the enemy, and you had a precipice in your rear, and twenty-seven hostile batteries in front--what would you do?" Villiam thought a moment, and then says he: "I'd resign my commission, and write to my mother that I was coming home to die in the spring-time." "Sensible patriot," says the Board. "Are you familiar with the history of General Scott?" "You can bet on it," says Villiam, smiling like a sagacious angel; "General Scott was born in Virginia when he was quite young, and discovered Scotland at an early age. He licked the British in 1812, wrote the Waverly Novels, and his son Whahae bled with Wallace. Now, old hoss, trot out your commission and let's liquor."