The dame was not insensible, The music touched her heart; He should have man's attire, said she, Who plays a mortal part. And acting on the impulse, A tailor's shop she gained, Where a paletot, lately register'd, Was speedily obtained. She had not reach'd her cottage door (She carried still the coat) When she beheld upon the green Her dog, who rode a goat. Another mission, and the last, Dame Hubbard doth perform; A wig, she reason'd to herself, Would keep the dog's head warm. Then with the wig upon her arm She towards her dog advanced, And found him strangely occupied— A jig he wildly danced. Gay hose from the hosier she obtained, A glass he stood before, Wrapt in self-admiration For his gay clothes he wore. When old men on the winter's night Shall mix their pleasant grog, And youth attempts its first cigar, Think of Dame Hubbard's dog. When the maiden of the household For sweet repose prepares, Taking the rushlight and the plate, One in each hand, upstairs— Think of the good Dame Hubbard, And hope through life to jog With a friend that's half as faithful As her old eccentric dog. G. A. A'B. DIFFICULT THINGS TO BE MET WITH ON THE CONTINENT. A _table d'hôte_ without a single Smith. A monument that has not an English name upon it. A waiter at any of the hotels on the Rhine that does not sell eau-de-Cologne. A bit of soap that can be persuaded to lather. A Frenchman on the field of the Battle of Waterloo. Two fine young Englishmen dining without champagne. A Dutchman on the top of the spire of Strasburg Cathedral. A Commissionaire, or a Conducteur, or a Portier, that has not served in the Imperial Guard. A Frenchman speaking any language but his own, an Englishman that looks happy, a German that looks clean, or a pig that has the slightest resemblance to a Christian pig. The precise rule of arithmetic by which hotel bills, particularly in Switzerland, are made out. An Irishman, a Welshman, and a Gascon travelling together. A party of English ladies the payment of whose luggage does not far exceed their railway-fare. A looking-glass without a group of Frenchmen before it. A regular John Bull returning home who is not glad to get back again to England. ABSENTEES AND EMIGRANTS DURING 1847.