"SERVE-UM-RIGHT."

"'Eh! dancez-vous?' dixit Mein Herr.

'Oui, oui!' the charming maid replied: Vidit ille at once the snare, Looked downas quick, et etiam sighed.

Das Madchen knew each bona art Stat ludicrans superba sweet; Simplex homo perdit his heart Declares eros ad ejus feet.

'Mein Liebchen,' here exclaims de Herr, 'Lux of mein life, ein rayum shed, Dein oscula let amor share, Si non, alas! meum be dead.'

Ludit das girlus gaily then, Cum scorna much upon her lip: Quid stultuses sunt all you men, Funus to give you omnes slip.

Mein Herr uprose cum dignas now, Et melius et wiser man, Der nubis paina on his brow, To his dark domus cito ran.

Nunc omnes you qui eager hear Meas tell of cette falsa maid, Of fascinatus girl beware Lest votre folly sic be paid."

TO A FRIEND AT PARTING.

"I often wished I had a friend, Dem ich mich anvertraun Konnt, A friend in whom I could confide, Der mit mir theilte Freud und Leid; Had I the riches of Girard-- Ich theilte mit ihm Haus und Heerd: For what is gold? 'Tis but a passing metal, Der Henker hol' fur mich den ganzen Bettel.

Could I purchase the world to live in it alone, Ich gab', dafur nich eine noble Bohn'; I thought one time in you I'd find that friend, Und glaubte schon mein Sehnen hat ein End; Alas! your friendship lasted but in sight, Doch meine grenzet an die Ewigkeit."

AD PROFESSOREM LINGUae GERMANICae.

"Oh why now sprechen Sie Deutsch?

What pleasure say can Sie haben?

You cannot imagine how much You bother unfortunate Knaben.

Liebster Freund! give bessere work, Nicht so hard, ein kurtzerer lesson, Oh then we will nicht try to shirk Und unser will geben Sie blessin'.

Oh, ask us nicht now to decline 'Meines Bruders grossere Hauser;'

'Die Fasser' of 'alt rother Wein'

Can give us no possible joy, sir.

Der Muller may tragen ein Rock Eat schwartz Brod und dem Kase, Die Gans may be hangen on hoch, But what can it matter to me, sir?

Return zu Ihr own native tongue, Leave Dutch und Sauer Kraut to the Dutchmen; And seek not to teach to the young The Sprache belonging to such men.

Und now 'tis my solemn belief That if you nicht grant this petition, Sie must schreiben mein Vater ein Brief, To say that ich hab' ein Condition.'"

--_Yale Courant._

POME OF A POSSUM.

"The nox was lit by lux of Luna, And 'twas nox most opportuna To catch a possum or a coona; For nix was scattered o'er this mundus, A shallow nix, et non profundus.

On sic a nox with canis unus, Two boys went out to hunt for coonus.

Unis canis, duo puer, Nunquam braver, nunquam truer, Quam hoc trio unquam fuit, If there was I never knew it.

The corpus of this bonus canis, Was full as long as octo span is, But brevior legs had canis never Quam had hic dog; et bonus clever Some used to say, in stultum jocum, Quod a field was too small locum For sic a dog to make a turnus Circum self from stem to sternus.

This bonus dog had one bad habit, Amabat much to tree a rabbit-- Amabat plus to chase a rattus, Amabat bene tree a cattus.

But on this nixy moonlight night, This old canis did just right.

Nunquam treed a starving rattus, Nunquam chased a starving cattus, But cucurrit on, intentus On the track and on the scentus, Till he treed a possum strongum, In a hollow trunkum longum; Loud he barked, in horrid bellum, Seemed on terra venit pellum; Quickly ran the duo puer, Mors of possum to secure; Quum venerit, one began To chop away like quisque man; Soon the axe went through the truncum, Soon he hit it all kerchunkum; Combat deepens; on ye braves!

Canis, pueri et staves; As his powers non longuis tarry, Possum potest non pugnare, On the nix his corpus lieth, Down to Hades spirit flieth, Joyful pueri, canis bonus, Think him dead as any stonus.

Now they seek their pater's domo, Feeling proud as any homo, Knowing, certe, they will blossom Into heroes, when with possum They arrive, narrabunt story, Plenus blood et plenior glory.

Pompey, David, Samson, Caesar, Cyrus, Blackhawk, Shalmaneser!

Tell me where est now the gloria, Where the honours of Victoria?

Quum ad domum narrent story, Plenus sanguine, tragic, gory.

Pater praiseth, likewise mater, Wonders greatly younger frater.

Possum leave they on the mundus, Go themselves to sleep profundus, Somniunt possums slain in battle, Strong as ursae, large as cattle.

When nox gives way to lux of morning-- Albam terram much adorning,-- Up they jump to see the varmen, Of the which this is the carmen.

Lo! possum est resurrectum!

Ecce pueri dejectum.

Ne relinquit track behind him, Et the pueri never find him.

Cruel possum! bestia vilest, How the pueros thou beguilest; Pueri think non plus of Caesar, Go ad Orcum, Shalmaneser, Take your laurels, cum the honour, Since ista possum is a goner!"

The following "Society Verses" of Mortimer Collins are given here by way of introducing an imitation of them in macaronic verse:

AD CHLOEN, M.A.

(FRESH FROM HER CAMBRIDGE EXAMINATION.)

"Lady, very fair are you, And your eyes are very blue, And your nose; And your brow is like the snow; And the various things you know Goodness knows.

And the rose-flush on your cheek, And your Algebra and Greek Perfect are; And that loving lustrous eye Recognises in the sky Every star.

You have pouting, piquant lips, You can doubtless an eclipse Calculate; But for your cerulean hue, I had certainly from you Met my fate.

If by an arrangement dual I were Adams mixed with Whewell, The same day I, as wooer, perhaps may come To so sweet an Artium Magistra."

TO THE FAIR "COME-OUTER."

"Lady! formosissima tu!

Caeruleis oculis have you, Ditto nose!

Et vous n'avez pas une faute-- And that you are going to vote, Goodness knows!

And the roseus on your cheek, And your Algebra and Greek, Are parfait!

And your jactus oculi Knows each star that shines in the Milky Way!

You have pouting, piquant lips, Sans doute vous pouvez an eclipse Calculate!

Ne caerulum colorantur, I should have in you, instanter, Met my fate!

Si, by some arrangement dual, I at once were Kant and Whewell; It would pay-- Procus noti then to come To so sweet an Artium Magistra!

Or, Jewel of Consistency, Si possem clear-starch, cookere, Votre learning Might the leges proscribere-- Do the pro patria mori, I, the churning!"

Here are a few juvenile specimens, the first being a little-known old nursery ballad:

THE FOUR BROTHERS.

"I had four brothers over the sea, Perrimerri dictum, Domine: And each one sent a present to me; Partum quartum, peredecentum, Perrimerri dictum, Domine.

The first sent a cherry without any stone; Perrimerri dictum, Domine: The second a chicken without any bone, Partum quartum, peredecentum, Perrimerri dictum, Domine.

The third sent a blanket without any thread; Perrimerri dictum, Domine: The fourth sent a book that no man could read; Partum quartum, peredecentum, Perrimerri dictum, Domine.