Himself, and enjoy, in a family way,
His good company _down-stairs_ at no distant day!
You'd, I'm sure, think me rude
If I did not include,
In the toast my young friend there, the curly-wigged Heir!
He's in very good hands, for you're all well aware
That St. Cuthbert has taken him under his care;
Though I must not say 'bless,'--
Why, you'll easily guess,--
May our curly-wigged Friend's shadow never be less!"
Nick took off his heel-taps--bowed--smiled---with an air
Most graciously grim,--and vacated the chair.

Of course the _élite_
Rose at once on their feet,
And followed their leader, and beat a retreat:
When a sky-larking Imp took the President's seat,
And requesting that each would replenish his cup,
Said, "Where we have dined, my boys, there let us sup!"--
It was three in the morning before they broke up!!!

* * * * *

I scarcely need say
Sir Guy didn't delay
To fulfill his vow made to St. Cuthbert, or pay
For the candles he'd promised, or make light as day
The shrine he assured him he'd render so gay.
In fact, when the votaries came there to pray,
All said there was naught to compare with it--nay,