And I worshipped as they came:
Said Dollinger the pilot man--
(O brave heart strong and true!)--
"Fear not, but trust in Dollinger,
For he will fetch you through."

Lo! scarce the words have passed his lips
The dauntless prophet say'th,
When every soul about him seeth
A wonder crown his faith!

And count ye all, both great and small,
As numbered with the dead!
For mariner for forty year,
On Erie, boy and man,
I never yet saw such a storm,
Or one 't with it began!

So overboard a keg of nails
And anvils three we threw,
Likewise four bales of gunny-sacks,
Two hundred pounds of glue,
Two sacks of corn, four ditto wheat,
A box of books, a cow,
A violin, Lord Byron's works,
A rip-saw and a sow.

A curve! a curve; the dangers grow!
"Labbord!--stabbord!--s-t-e-a-d-y!--so!--
_Hard-a.-port_, Dol!--hellum-a-lee!
Haw the head mule!--the aft one gee!
Luff!--bring her to the wind!"

For straight a farmer brought a plank,--
(Mysteriously inspired)--
And laying it unto the ship,
In silent awe retired.
Then every sufferer stood amazed
That pilot man before;
A moment stood. Then wondering turned,
And speechless walked ashore.

TIM KEYSER'S NOSE.

BY MAX ADELER.

Tim Keyser lived at Wilmington,
He had a monstrous nose,
Which was a great deal redder
Than the very reddest rose,
And was completely capable
Of most terrific blows.

He wandered down one Christmas-day
To skate upon the creek,
And there upon the smoothest ice
He slid along so slick,