Melanie;"
And Skunk, who fought his country's fight
Beneath the stripes and stars,--
All thronging at the windows stood,
And gazed between the bars.
The little boys that stood behind
(Young thievish imps were they!)
Displayed considerable _nous_
On that eventful day;
For bits of broken looking-glass
They held aslant on high,
And there a mirrored gallows-tree
Met their delighted eye. {49}
The clock is ticking onward;
Hark! hark! it striketh one!
Each felon draws a whistling breath,
"Time's up with Colt! he's done!"

The sheriff cons his watch again,
Then puts it in his fob,
And turning to the hangman, says--
"Get ready for the job."
The jailer knocketh loudly,
The turnkey draws the bolt,
And pleasantly the sheriff says,
"We're waiting, Mister Colt!"

No answer! no! no answer!
All's still as death within;
The sheriff eyes the jailer,
The jailer strokes his chin.
"I shouldn't wonder, Nahum, if
It were as you suppose."
The hangman looked unhappy, and
The turnkey blew his nose.

They entered. On his pallet
The noble convict lay,--
The bridegroom on his marriage-bed
But not in trim array.
His red right hand a razor held,
Fresh sharpened from the hone,
And his ivory neck was severed,
And gashed into the bone.

* * * *

And when the lamp is lighted
In the long November days,
And lads and lasses mingle
At the shucking of the maize;
When pies of smoking pumpkin
Upon the table stand,
And bowls of black molasses
Go round from hand to hand;
When slap-jacks, maple-sugared,
Are hissing in the pan,
And cider, with a dash of gin,
Foams in the social can;

When the goodman wets his whistle,
And the goodwife scolds the child;
And the girls exclaim convulsively,
"Have done, or I'll be riled!"
When the loafer sitting next them
Attempts a sly caress,
And whispers, "Oh, you 'possum,
You've fixed my heart, I guess!"
With laughter and with weeping,
Then shall they tell the tale,
How Colt his foeman quartered,
And died within the jail.

The Death of Jabez Dollar.

[Before the following poem, which originally appeared in 'Fraser's
Magazine,' could have reached America, intelligence was received in this
country of an affray in Congress, very nearly the counterpart of that
which the Author has here imagined in jest. It was very clear, to any
one who observed the then state of public planners in America, that su