completely Mr. P. has given up, for the season, his field sports and
country pleasures. Copies may be obtained by placing a piece of
tracing-paper over the picture and following the lines with a
lead-pencil.

* * * * *

THE POEMS OF THE CRADLE.

CANTO VI.

TAFFY was a Welshman,
TAFFY was a thief,
TAFFY came to my house and stole a piece of beef.
I went to TAFFY'S house,
TAFFY wasn't at home,
TAFFY came to my house and stole a mutton bone.

It is not often that a poet descends to the discussion of mundane
affairs. His sphere of usefulness, oftentimes usefulness to himself,
only, lies among the roseate clouds of the morn, or the spiritual
essences of the cerulean regions, but, like other human beings, he
cannot live on the zephyr breeze, or on the moonbeams flitting o'er the
rippling stream. Such ethereal food is highly unproductive of adipose
tissue, and the poet needs adipose like any other man. And our poet is
no exception to the rule, for he well knew that good digestible poetry
can't be written on an empty stomach.

It is seldom that a writer is met with, who does not seize every
opportunity to attract attention to his own deeds. He is never so happy