arthward with its blossom, broken.
The gardener raised her hand unto his lip,
And kiss'd it--when a rough voice, hoarse with halloas,
Cried, "Harkye' fellow! I'll permit no followers!"

* * * * *

SONGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL.--No. 11

The lists were made--the trumpet's blast
Rang pealing through the air.
My 'squire made lace and rivet fast
And brought my tried _destrerre_.
I rode where sat fair Isidore
Inez Mathilde Borghese;
From spur to crest she scann'd me o'er,
Then said "He's not the cheese!"

O, Mary mother! how burn'd my cheek!
I proudly rode away;
And vow'd "Woe's his I who dares to break
A lance with me to-day!"
I won the prize! (Revenge is sweet,
I thought me of a _ruse_;)
I laid it at her rival's feet,
And thus I cook'd her goose.

* * * * *

SIBTHORP'S CORNER.

What difference is there between a farrier and Dr. Locock?--Because the
one is a _horse-shoer_, and the other is _a-cow-shoer_. (accoucheur).

Why is the Prince of Wales Duke of Cornwall?--Because he is a _minor_.

"Bar that," as the Sheriff's Officer said to his first-floor window.

* * * * *

KINGS AND CARPENTERS.--ROYAL AND VULGAR CONSPIRATORS.

In a manuscript life of _Jemmy Twitcher_--the work will shortly appear
under the philosophical auspices of SIR LYTTON BULWER--we find a curious
circumstance, curiously paralleled by a recent political event. _Jemmy_
had managed to pass himself off as a shrewd, cunning, but withal very
honest sort of fellow; he was, nevertheless, in heart and soul, a
housebreaker of the first order. One night, _Jemmy_ quitted his
respectable abode, and, furnished with dark lantern, pistol, crowbar, and
crape, joined half-a-dozen neophyte burglars--his pupils and his victims.
The hostelry chosen for attack was "The Spaniards." The host and his
servants were, however, on the alert; and, after a smart struggle in the
passage, the housebreakers were worsted; two or three of them being
killed, and the others--save and except the cautious _Jemmy_, who had only
directed the movement from without--being fast in the clutches of the
constables. _Jemmy_, flinging away his crape and his crowbar, ran home to
his house--he was then living somewhere in Petty France--went to bed, and
the next morning appeared as snug and as respectable as ever to his
neighbours. Vehem