His costume was a wreath of leaves, And those were multum battered; Urchins had stoned him, and the ground Cum lachrymis was scattered.

Rex Midas picked hunc senem up, And put him on his pony, Et bore him ad castellum grand Quod cost him multum money.

Dedit Silenum mollem care: Cum Bacchus found his ubi Promisit Midas quod he asked.

Rex Midas fuit--booby.

For aurum was his gaudium, Rogavit he the favour Ut quid he touched might turn to gold; Ab this he'd nunquam never.

Carpsit arose to try the charm, Et in eodem minute It mutat into flavum gold, Ridet as spectat in it.

His filia rushed to meet her sire, He osculavit kindly; She lente stiffened into gold-- Vidit he'd acted blindly.

Spectavit on her golden form, And in his brachia caught her: 'Heu me! sed tamen breakfast waits, My daughter, oh! my daughter!'

Venit ad suum dining-hall, Et coffeam gustavit, Liquatum gold his fauces burned,-- Loud he vociferavit:

'Triste erat amittere My solam filiam true, Pejus to lose my pabulam.

Eheu! Eheu!! Eheu!!!'

Big lachrymae bedewed his cheeks-- 'O potens Bacchus lazy, Prende ab me the power you gave, Futurum, ut I'll praise thee.'

Benignus Bacchus audiens groans, Misertus est our hero; Dixit ut the Pactolian waves Ab hoc would cleanse him--vero.

Infelix rex was felix then, Et cum hilarious grin, Ruit unto the river's bank, Et fortis plunged in.

The nefas power was washed away; Sed even at this hour Pactolus' sands are tinged with gold, Testes of Bacchus' power.

A tristis sed a sapiens vir Rex Midas fuit then; Et gratus to good Bacchus said, 'Non feram sic again.'

Haec fable docet, plain to see, Quamquam the notion's old, Hoc verum est, ut girls and grub Much melior sunt than gold."

The following well-known lines are from the "Comic Latin Grammar," a remarkably clever and curious work, full of quaint illustrations:

"Patres conscripti--took a boat and went to Philippi.

Trumpeter unus erat qui coatum scarlet habebat, Stormum surgebat, et boatum overset--ebat, Omnes drownerunt, quia swimaway non potuerunt, Excipe John Periwig tied up to the tail of a dead pig."

A TREATISE ON WINE.

"The best tree, if ye take intent, Inter ligna fructifera, Is the vine tree by good argument, Dulcia ferens pondera.

Saint Luke saith in his Gospel, Arbor fructu noscitur, The vine beareth wine as I you tell, Hinc aliis praeponitur.

The first that planted the vineyard Manet in coelio gaudio, His name was Noe, as I am learned Genesis testimonio.

God gave unto him knowledge and wit, A quo procedunt omnia, First of the grape wine for to get Propter magna mysteria.

The first miracle that Jesus did, Erat in vino rubeo, In Cana of Galilee it betide Testante Evangelio.

He changed water into wine Aquae rubescunt hydriae, And bade give it to Archetcline, Ut gustet tunc primarie.

Like as the rose exceedeth all flowers, Inter cuncta florigera, So doth wine all other liquors, Dans multa salutifera.

David, the prophet, saith that wine Laetificat cor hominis, It maketh men merry if it be fine, Est ergo digni nominis.

It nourisheth age if it be good, Facit ut esset juvenis, It gendereth in us gentle blood, Nam venas purgat sanguinis.

By all these causes, ye should think Quae sunt rationabiles, That good wine should be the best of drink, Inter potus potabiles.

Wine drinkers all, with great honour, Semper laudate Dominum, The which sendeth the good liquor Propter salutem hominum.

Plenty to all that love good wine Donet Deus larguis, And bring them some when they go hence, Ubi non sitient amplius."

--_Richard Hilles_ (1535).

The two which follow are identical in theme, and show that the wags and wits of about thirty years ago were busy poking their fun at what was then their latest sensation, much as they do now. They both treat of the Sea-serpent; the first being from an American source:

THE SEA-SERPENT.

"Sed tempus necessit, and this was all over, Cum illi successit another gay rover, Nam cum navigaret, in his own cutter Portentum apparet, which made them all flutter.

Est horridus anguis which they behold; Haud dubio sanguis within them ran cold; Trigenta pedes his head was upraised Et corporis sedes in secret was placed.

Sic serpens manebat, so says the same joker, Et sese ferebat as stiff as a poker; Tergum fricabat against the old lighthouse; Et sese liberabat of scaly detritus.

Tunc plumbo percussit, thinking he hath him, At serpens exsiluit full thirty fathom; Exsiluit mare with pain and affright, Conatus abnare as fast as he might.

Neque illi secuti--no, nothing so rash, Terrore sunt multi, he'd make such a splash, Sed nunc adierunt, the place to inspect, Et squamus viderunt, the which they collect.

Quicunque non credat aut doubtfully rails Ad locum accedat, they'll show him the scales, Quas, sola trophaea, they brought to the shore,-- Et causa est ea they couldn't get more."

THE DEATH OF THE SEA-SERPENT.

BY PUBLIUS JONATHAN VIRGILIUS JEFFERSON SMITH.

"Arma virumque cano, qui first in Monongahela Tarnally squampushed the sarpent, mittens horrentia tella, Musa, look sharp with your banjo! I guess to relate this event, I Shall need all the aid you can give; so nunc aspirate canenti.

Mighty slick were the vessels progressing, jactata per aequora ventis, But the brow of the skipper was sad, cum solicitudine mentis; For whales had been scarce in those parts, and the skipper, so long as he'd known her, Ne'er had gathered less oil in a cruise to gladden the heart of her owner.

'Darn the whales,' cried the skipper at length, with a telescope forte videbo Aut pisces, aut terras. While speaking, just two or three points on the lee bow, He saw coming toward them as fast as though to a combat 'twould tempt 'em, A monstrum horrendum informe (qui lumen was shortly ademptum), On the taffrail up jumps in a hurry, dux fortis, and seizing a trumpet, Blows a blast that would waken the dead, mare turbat et aera rumpit-- 'Tumble up, all you lubbers,' he cries, 'tumble up, for careering before us Is the real old sea-sarpent himself, cristis maculisque decorus.'

'Consarn it,' cried one of the sailors, 'if e'er we provoke him he'll kill us, He'll certainly chaw up hos morsu, et longis, implexibus illos.'

Loud laughs the bold skipper, and quick premit alto corde dolorem; (If he does feel like running, he knows it won't do to betray it before 'em.) 'O socii,' inquit. 'I'm sartin you're not the fellers to funk, or Shrink from the durem certamen, whose fathers fit bravely at Bunker; You, who have waged with the bears, and the buffalo, proelia dura, Down to the freshets and licks of our own free enlightened Missourer; You, who could whip your own weight, catulis saevis sine telo, Get your eyes skinned in a twinkling, et ponite tela phaesello!'

Talia voce refert, curisque ingentibus aeger, Marshals his cute little band, now panting their foe to beleaguer.

Swiftly they lower the boats, and swiftly each man at the oar is, Excipe Britanni timidi duo, virque coloris.

(Blackskin, you know, never feels how sweet 'tis pro patri mori; Ovid had him in view when he said 'Nimium ne crede colori.') Now swiftly they pull towards the monster, who seeing the cutter and gig nigh, Glares at them with terrible eyes, suffectis sanguine et igni, And, never conceiving their chief will so quickly deal him a floorer, Opens wide to receive them at once, his linguis vibrantibis ora; But just as he's licking his lips, and gladly preparing to taste 'em, Straight into his eyeball the skipper stridentem conjicit hastam.

Straight as he feels in his eyeball the lance, growing mightily sulky, At 'em he comes in a rage, ora minax, lingua trusulca.

'Starn all,' cry the sailors at once, for they think he has certainly caught 'em, Praesentemque viris intentant omnia mortem.

But the bold skipper exclaims, 'O terque quaterque beati!

Now with a will dare viam, when I want you, be only parati; This hoss feels like raising his hair, and in spite of his scaly old cortex, Full soon you shall see that his corpse rapidus vorat aequore vortex.'

Hoc ait, and choosing a lance, 'With this one I think I shall hit it,'

He cries, and straight into his mouth, ad intima viscera millit, Screeches the creature in pain, and writhes till the sea is commotum, As if all its waves had been lashed in a tempest per Eurum et Notum.

Interea terrible shindy Neptunus sensit, et alto Prospiciens sadly around, wiped his eye with the cuff of his paletot; And, mad at his favourite's fate, of oaths uttered one or two thousand, Such as 'Corpo di Bacco! Mehercle! Sacre! Mille Tonnerres! Potztausend!'