In letters such as those may read, who run, "KING JOHN'-O yes, I recollect King John! 'My Lord, they say five moons'-five moons!well done! I wonder Ellen was content with one! "Five moons-all full!—and all at once in heav'n! She should have lived in that prolific reign!' His tongue and palate seemed so parched with drouth, The very knocker filled his soul with dread, As if it had a living lion's mouth, With teeth so terrible, and tongue so red, In which he had engaged to put his head. The bell-pull turned his courage into vapour, As though 'twould cause a shower-bath to shed Its thousand shocks, to make him sigh and caperHe looked askance, and did not like the scraper. "What business have I here? (he thought) a dunce, A hopeless passion thus to fan and foster, Instead of putting out its wick at once; She's gone-it's very evident I've lost her,And to the wanton wind I should have tossed her Pish! I will leave her with her moon, at ease, "Yes-here I leave her," and as thus he spoke, He plied the knocker with such needless force, It almost split the panel of sound oak ; And then he went as wildly through a course Who, presto! cloak, and carpet-bag to boot, And then with no more manners than a bear, No modest tap his presence to declare, Like fond Medora, watching at her window, The private house of Reverend Doctor Birch, The public-house, closed nightly at eleven, And then that house of prayer, the parish church, Some roofs, and chimneys, and a glimpse of heaven, Made up the whole look-out of Number Seven. Yet something in the prospect so absorbed her, As if her own beloved full moon still orbed her, As if some midnight ghost, from regions colder, "Lorenzo !"-" Ellen !"-then came "Sir!" and "Madam!" They tried to speak, but hammered at each word, As if it were a flint for great Mac Adam; Such broken English never else was heard, For like an aspen leaf each nerve was stirred, A chilly tremour thrilled them through and through, Their efforts to be stiff were quite absurd, They shook like jellies made without a due And proper share of common joiner's glue. "Ellen! I'm come-to bid you-fare-farewell,” They thus began to fight their verbal duel; "Since some more hap-hap-happy man must dwell ". "Alas-Loren-Lorenzo !-cru--cru-cruel!" For so they split their words like grits for gruel. At last the Lover, as he long had planned, Drew out that once inestimable jewel, Her portrait, which was erst so fondly scanned, And thrust poor Ellen's face into her hand. "There-take it, Madam-take it back I crave, The face of one-but I must now forget her, Bestow it on whatever hapless slave Your art has last enticed into your fetter- They will be novelties-rare benefactions "Take them-pray take them—I resign them quite! [stealAnd there's the glove you gave me leave to And there's the handkerchief, so pure and white, I should have led you,--by your leave and pardon- "And here's the birthday ring-nor man nor devil Should once have torn it from my living hand, Perchance 'twill look as well on Mr. Neville; And that-and that is all-and now I stand Absolved of each dissevered tie and bandAnd so farewell, till Time's eternal sickle Shall reap our lives; in this, or foreign land Some other may be found for truth to stickle Almost as fair-and not so false and fickle!" And there he ceased: as truly it was time, She knew no more than the old Hill of Howth About that"Children of a larger growth," Who notes proceedings of the F. R. S.'s; Kit North, was just as strange to her as South, Except the south the weathercock expresses, Nay, Bartley's Orrery defied her guesses. Howbeit some notion of his jealous drift She gathered from the simple outward fact, "I, false !-unjust Lorenzo!-and to you! The soul to truth, bear witness I am true! So long as this poor throbbing heart is mineI false the world shall change its course as soon! True as the streamlet to the stars that shineTrue as the dial to the sun at noon, True as the tide to 'yonder blessed moon!'" And as she spoke, she pointed through the window, Somewhere above the houses' distant tops, Betwixt the chimney-pots of Mrs. Lindo, And Todd and Sturch's cheapest of all shops "The Moon!" he cried, and an electric spasm At last his voice came, of most shrilly sort, Speak!-Ellen!--is your sight indeed so short! The Moon!-Brute! savage that I am, and block! The Moon! (O, ye Romantics, what a shock!) Why that's the new Illuminated Clock!" THOSE EVENING BELLS. "I'D BE A PARODY." THOSE Evening Bells, those Evening Bells, |