“When he saw what he had done,”

continues the poet, in a sense not entirely literal, for reasons which are not necessary to be explained, this man of wondrous wisdom saw that he had been made a dupe.  Cunning as a fox were his would-be friends; but having got him to the bush, there they let him gambol as he would, ensnaring him to his own almost utter ruin.

A new light flashes upon his brain; his folly appears plainly to his mind; he had ruthlessly deserted his fond parents; sought evil counsel; was deserted by his false friends; and was now in a deplorable condition indeed.  Remorse sometimes brings repentance; at least it did in this case.  Our hero remembered the good teachings of his early youth; and, like the prodigal son, was willing to return to the home of his fathers.  True, he was in a bramble-bush; but, similia similibus curantur (which, interpreted, signifies, “You tickle me and I’ll tickle you").

    “He jumped into another bush,”

found his eyes as they were before his sad catastrophe, and without ceremony returned them to their places, by another operation of scratching.

What more need be said!  No circumlocution of words will add to the ending of a tale, but perhaps serve only to conceal the point.  The author is careful of his reputation.  He restores the hero to his original position, in full possession of his senses.

    There let him be;
    But O Be good, say we.

* * * * *

AGOSTINO THE GUNSMITH.

    Of gun-tricks, old or new, the best that we know
    Was that performed by JOSEPH AGOSTINO,
    The gunsmith who, by burglars often vext,
    A week or two since plotted for the next
    By planting cunningly a wide-bored fusil,
    With buck-shot loaded half-way to the muzzle,
    Right opposite the window to which came
    The nightly thief, to ply his little game;
    And to the trigger hitching so a string,
    That when the burglar bold was entering
    The charge went off, and, crashing through the shutter,
    Relieved the rascal of his bread and butter
    By blowing off his head.

                             O!  AGOSTINO,
    Far better than the helmet of MAMBRINO,
    Or steel-wrought hauberk, fashioned for defence,
    Was this thy dodge; ’twas dexterous, immense! 
    Your health, GIUSEPPE; and for PUNCHINELLO
    Construct to order—­there’s a jolly fellow—­
    A mitrailleuse, both long enough and large
    To kill the burglars, all, at one discharge.

* * * * *

SORTES SHAKSPEARIANAE.

A Picture of the John Real Democracy:—­

    “What are these,
    So withered and so wild in their attire;
    That look not like the inhabitants o’ the earth,
    And yet are on’t?”

    Macbeth, Act 1, Sc. 3.