Oh Jones, my dear !-oh dear! my Jones, What is become of you?"

"Oh! Sally dear, it is too true,-

The half that you remark

Is come to say my other half

Is bit off by a shark!

"Oh! Sally, sharks do things by halves,

Yet most completely do!

A bite in one place seems enough,
But I've been bit in two.

"You know I once was all your own,
But now a shark must share!
But let that pass-for now to you
I'm neither here nor there.

"Alas! death has a strange divorce

Effected in the sea,

It has divided me from you,

And even me from me!

"Don't fear my ghost will walk o'nights

To haunt, as people say ;

My ghost can't walk, for, oh! my legs
Are many leagues away!

"Lord! think, when I am swimming round,

And looking where the boat is, A shark just snaps away a half, Without a quarter's notice.'

"One half is here, the other half
Is near Columbia placed;
Oh! Sally, I have got the whole
Atlantic for my waist.

"But now, adieu-a long adieu !
I've solved death's awful riddle,
And would say more, but I am doomed
To break off in the middle !"

I'M GOING TO BOMBAY.

"Nothing venture, nothing have."-OLD PRoverb. Every Indiaman has at least two mates.'

་་

-FALCONER'S MARINE GUIDE

M

I.

Y hair is brown, my eyes are blue,
And reckon'd rather bright;
I'm shapely, if they tell me true,
And just the proper height;

My skin has been admired in verse,
And called as fair as day-

If I am fair, so much the worse,
I'm going to Bombay!

II.

At school I passed with some éclât;
I learned my French in France;
De Wint gave lessons how to draw,
And D'Egville how to dance ;-
Crevelli taught me how to sing,
And Cramer how to play-

It really is the strangest thing-
I'm going to Bombay!

III.

I've been to Bath and Cheltenham Wells,

But not their springs to sip

To Ramsgate-not to pick up shells,

To Brighton-not to dip.

I've tour'd the Lakes, and scour'd the coast

From Scarboro' to Torquay

But tho' of time I've made the most,

I'm going to Bombay!

IV.

By Pa and Ma I'm daily told

To marry now's my time,

For though I'm very far from old,

I'm rather in my prime.

They say while we have any sun,

We ought to make our hay-
And India has so hot an one,
I'm going to Bombay!

My cousin writes from Hyderapot
My only chance to snatch,

And says the climate is so hot,

It's sure to light a match.—

She's married to a son of Mars,

With very handsome pay,

And swears I ought to thank my stars

I'm going to Bombay!

VI.

She says that I shall much delight

To taste their Indian treats,

But what she likes may turn me quite,

Their strange outlandish meats.—

If I can eat rupees, who knows?

Or dine, the Indian way,

On doolies and on bungalows-
I'm going to Bombay!

VII.

She says that I shall much enjoy,→

I don't know what she means,—
To take the air and buy some toy,

In my own palankeens,

I like to drive my pony-chair,

Or ride our dapple gray—

But elephants are horses there-
I'm going to Bombay!

VIII.

Farewell, farewell, my parents dear,

My friends, farewell to them!

And oh, what costs a sadder tear,

Good-bye to Mr. M. !—

If I should find an Indian vault,

Or fall a tiger's prey,

Or steep in salt, it's all his fault,

I'm going to Bombay!

IX.

That fine new teak-built ship, the Fox
A. I-Commander Bird,

Now lying in the London Docks,

Will sail on May the Third;

Apply for passage or for freight,

To Nichol, Scott, and Gray

Pa has applied and seal'd my fate-
I'm going to Bombay!

X.

My heart is full-my trunks as well;

My mind and caps made up,

My corsets shap'd by Mrs. Bell,

Are promised ere I sup;

With boots and shoes, Rivarta's best,

And dresses by Ducé,

And a special license in my chest

I'm going to Bombay!

JOHN JONES.

A PATHETIC BALLAD.

6. I saw the iron enter into his soul."-STERNE.

JOHN JONES he was a builder's clerk,
On ninety pounds a year,
Before his head was engine-turn'd
To be an engineer!

For, finding that the iron roads
Were quite the public tale,
Like Robin Redbreast, all his heart

Was set upon a rail.

But oh! his schemes all ended ill,

As schemes must come to nought,

With men who try to make short cuts, When cut with something short.

His altitudes he did not take,

Like any other elf;

But first a spirit-level took,

That levelled him, himself.

Then getting up, from left to right
So many tacks he made,
The ground he meant to go upon
Got very well survey'd.

How crows may fly he did not care
A single fig to know;—
He wish'd to make an iron road,

And not an iron crow.

So, going to the Rose and Crown,
To cut his studies short,
The nearest way from pint to pint,
He found was through a quart.

According to this rule he plann'd
His railroad o'er a cup;
But when he came to lay it down,
No soul would take it up!

Alas! not his the wily arts
Of men as shrewd as rats,
Who out of one sole level make
A precious lot of flats!

In vain from Z to crooked S,

His devious line he show'd;
Directors even seemed to wish
For some directer road.

The writers of the public press
All sneered at his design;
And penny-a-liners wouldn't give
A penny for his line.