ke in the night
In a deuce of a fright,
And found it was perfectly true.'

Performances of that sort are, however, easy; and more merit attaches to
such studies in unintelligibility as Bret Harte's 'Songs without Sense,'
of which the 'Swiss Air' is a good example:

'I'm a gay tra, la, la,
With my fal, lal, la, la,
And my bright--
And my light--
Tra, la, le. [_Repeat._]
Then laugh, ha, ha, ha,
And ring, ting, ling, ling,
And sing fal, la, la,
La, la, le.' [_Repeat._]

Probably, however, the poetry of pure nonsense has never been better
represented than in these contemporary verses on the suitable topic of
'Blue Moonshine':

'Ay! for ever and for ever
Whilst the love-lorn censers sweep,
Whilst the jasper winds dissever,
Amber-like, the crystal deep;
Shall the soul's delirious slumber,
Sea-green vengeance of a kiss,
Teach despairing crags to number
Blue infinities of bliss.'

SINGLE-SPEECH HAMILTONS.

Most people have heard of that Mr. Gerard Hamilton who, suddenly and
unexpectedly making in the House of Commons an oration which 'threw into
the shade every other orator except Pitt,' was henceforth known by the
nickname of 'Single-Speech'--not because he never addressed the House
again, but because those who so nicknamed him chose to regard this
performance as the distinguishing feature of his career. He continued to
be known by that one discourse, and it is by virtue of it that he has a
place in history. The fact is notable, and yet by no means uncommon. The
world is, and always has been, full of Single-Speech Hamiltons--male and
female--who have gained and maintained their notoriety by one special
effort. Human nature is so constituted that the man or woman who is
unable to produce a series of successes may yet have the capacity to
compass one--may possess the energy and the ability to make at least one
strong impression before retiring wholly into the background.

The truth of this is observable, for example, in the sphere of poetry.
How many are the excellent versifiers whose reputation is based wholly
upon a solitary effusion! They have been inspired once, and the outcome
is literary immortality. They cannot always be regarded strictly as
poets, and yet they have a vogue which any poet might envy. They reign
and shine by virtue of what may be called a happy accident. Thus, Lady
Ann Barnard is known, in the world of verse, only by her 'Auld