This familiar nursery rhyme has also been "revised" by a committee of eminent preceptors and scholars, with this result:

"Shine with irregular, intermitted light, sparkle at intervals, diminutive, luminous, heavenly body.

How I conjecture, with surprise, not unmixed with uncertainty, what you are, Located, apparently, at such a remote distance from, and at a height so vastly superior to this earth, the planet we inhabit, Similar in general appearance and refractory powers to the precious primitive octahedron crystal of pure carbon, set in the aerial region surrounding the earth."

Dr. Lang, in his book on "Queensland," &c., is wroth against the colonists for the system of nomenclature they have pursued, in so far as introducing such names as Deptford, Codrington, Greenwich, and so on. Conceding that there may be some confusion by the duplication in this way of names from the old country, they are surely better than the jaw-breaking native names which are strung together in the following lines:

"I like the native names, as Parramatta, And Illawarra and Wooloomooloo, Tongabbee, Mittagong, and Coolingatta, Euranania, Jackwa, Bulkomatta, Nandowra, Tumbwumba, Woogaroo; The Wollondilly and the Wingycarribbeo, The Warragumby, Dalby, and Bungarribbe."

The following _jeu d'esprit_, in which many of the absurd and unpronounceable names of American towns and villages are happily hit off, is from the _Orpheus C. Kerr_ (office-seeker) _Papers_, by R. H. Newell, a work containing many of those humorous, semi-political effusions, which were so common in the United States during the Civil War:

THE AMERICAN TRAVELLER.

"To Lake Aghmoogenegamook, All in the State of Maine, A man from Wittequergaugaum came One evening in the rain.

'I am a traveller,' said he, 'Just started on a tour, And go to Nomjamskillicook To-morrow morn at four.'

He took a tavern-bed that night, And with the morrow's sun, By way of Sekledobskus went, With carpet-bag and gun.

A week passed on; and next we find Our native tourist come To that sequester'd village called Genasagarnagum.

From thence he went to Absequoit, And there--quite tired of Maine-- He sought the mountains of Vermont, Upon a railroad train.

Dog Hollow, in the Green Mount State, Was his first stopping-place, And then Skunk's Misery displayed Its sweetness and its grace.

By easy stages then he went To visit Devil's Den; And Scrabble Hollow, by the way, Did come within his ken.

Then _via_ Nine Holes and Goose Green, He travelled through the State, And to Virginia, finally, Was guided by his fate.

Within the Old Dominion's bounds, He wandered up and down; To-day at Buzzard Roost ensconced, To-morrow at Hell Town.

At Pole Cat, too, he spent a week, Till friends from Bull Ring came, And made him spend the day with them In hunting forest game.

Then, with his carpet-bag in hand, To Dog Town next he went; Though stopping at Free Negro Town, Where half a day he spent.

From thence, into Negationburg His route of travel lay, Which having gained, he left the State And took a southward way.

North Carolina's friendly soil He trod at fall of night, And, on a bed of softest down, He slept at Hell's Delight.

Morn found him on the road again, To Lousy Level bound; At Bull's Tail, and Lick Lizard too, Good provender he found.

The country all about Pinch Gut So beautiful did seem, That the beholder thought it like A picture in a dream.

But the plantations near Burnt Coat Were even finer still, And made the wond'ring tourist feel A soft delicious thrill.

At Tear Shirt, too, the scenery Most charming did appear, With Snatch It in the distance far, And Purgatory near.

But spite of all these pleasant scenes, The tourist stoutly swore That home is brightest after all, And travel is a bore.

So back he went to Maine, straightway A little wife he took; And now is making nutmegs at Moosehicmagunticook."

A RHYME FOR MUSICIANS.

"Haendel, Bendel, Mendelssohn, Brendel, Wendel, Jadasshon, Muller, Hiller, Heller, Franz, Blothow, Flotow, Burto, Gantz.

Meyer, Geyer, Meyerbeer, Heyer, Weyer, Beyer, Beer, Lichner, Lachnar, Schachner, Dietz, Hill, Will, Bruell, Grill Drill, Reiss, Reitz.

Hansen, Jansen, Jensen, Kiehl, Siade, Gade, Laade, Stiehl, Naumann, Riemann, Diener, Wurst, Niemann, Kiemann, Diener Wurst.

Kochler, Dochler, Rubenstein, Himmel, Hummel, Rosenkyn, Lauer, Bauer, Kleincke, Homberg, Plomberg, Reinecke."

--_E. Lemke._

SURNAMES.

BY JAMES SMITH, ONE OF THE AUTHORS OF "REJECTED ADDRESSES."

"Men once were surnamed for their shape or estate (You all may from history learn it), There was Louis the Bulky, and Henry the Great, John Lackland, and Peter the Hermit.

But now, when the doorplates of misters and dames Are read, each so constantly varies; From the owner's trade, figure, and calling, surnames Seem given by the rule of contraries.

Mr. Wise is a dunce, Mr. King is a whig, Mr. Coffin's uncommonly sprightly, And huge Mr. Little broke down in a gig, While driving fat Mrs. Golightly.

At Bath, where the feeble go more than the stout, (A conduct well worthy of Nero,) Over poor Mr. Lightfoot, confined with the gout, Mr. Heavyside danced a bolero.

Miss Joy, wretched maid, when she chose Mr. Love, Found nothing but sorrow await her; She now holds in wedlock, as true as a dove, That fondest of mates, Mr. Hayter.

Mr. Oldcastle dwells in a modern-built hut; Miss Sage is of madcaps the archest; Of all the queer bachelors Cupid e'er cut, Old Mr. Younghusband's the starchest.

Mr. Child, in a passion, knock'd down Mr. Rock; Mr. Stone like an aspen-leaf shivers; Miss Pool used to dance, but she stands like a stock Ever since she became Mrs. Rivers.

Mr. Swift hobbles onward, no mortal knows how, He moves as though cords had entwined him; Mr. Metcalf ran off upon meeting a cow, With pale Mr. Turnbull behind him.

Mr. Barker's as mute as a fish in the sea, Mr. Miles never moves on a journey, Mr. Gotobed sits up till half after three, Mr. Makepeace was bred an attorney.

Mr. Gardener can't tell a flower from a root, Mr. Wild with timidity draws back; Mr. Ryder performs all his journeys on foot, Mr. Foot all his journeys on horseback.

Mr. Penny, whose father was rolling in wealth, Consumed all the fortune his dad won; Large Mr. Le Fever's the picture of health; Mr. Goodenough is but a bad one.

Mr. Cruikshank stept into three thousand a year By showing his leg to an heiress: Now I hope you'll acknowledge I've made it quite clear Surnames ever go by contraries."

The next verses are somewhat similar, and are taken from an old number of the _European Magazine_:

COINCIDENCES AND CONTRARIETIES.

"Tis curious to find, in this overgrown town, While through its long streets we are dodging, That many a man is in trade settled down, Whose name don't agree with his lodging!

For instance, Jack Munday in Friday Street dwells, Mr. Pitt in Fox Court is residing; Mr. White in Black's Buildings green-grocery sells, While East in West Square is abiding!

Mr. Lamb in Red Lion Street perks up his head, To Lamb's, Conduit Street, Lyon goes courting; Mr. Boxer at Battle Bridge hires a bed, While Moon is in Sun Street disporting.

Bill Brown up to Green Street to live now is gone, In Stanhope mews Dennet keeps horses; Doctor Low lives in High Street, Saint Mary-le-Bone, In Brown Street one Johnny White's door sees.

But still much more curious it is, when the streets Accord with the names of their tenants; And yet with such curious accordance one meets, In taking a town-tour like Pennant's.

For instance, in Crown Street George King you may note, To Booth, in Mayfair, you go shopping; And Porter, of Brewer Street, goes in a boat To Waters, of River Street, Wapping!

Mr. Sparrow in Bird Street has feathered his nest, Mr. Archer in Bow Street wooes Sally: Mr. Windham in Air Street gets zephyr'd to rest, Mr. Dancer resides in Ball Alley.

Mr. Fisher on Finsbury fixes his views, Mrs. Foote in Shoe Lane works at carding; Mr. Hawke has a residence close to the Mews, And Winter puts up at Spring Gardens!