or any other sky, who ventures to propose one. Our proposition is, "_Read_
PUNCH," and we will be bound that no one will ever forget it who has once
enjoyed the luxury.

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SONGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL.--NO. 9.

I wander'd through our native fields,
And one was by my side who seem'd
Fraught with each beauty nature yields,
Whilst from her eye affection beam'd.
It was so like what fairy books,
In painting heaven, are wont to tell,
That fondly I _believed_ those looks,
And found too late--'twas all a sell!
'Twas all a sell!

She vow'd I was her all--her life--
And proved, methought, her words by sighs;
She long'd to hear me call her "wife,"
And fed on hope which love supplies.
Ah! then I felt it had been sin
To doubt that she could e'er belie
Her vows!--I found 'twas only tin
She sought, and love was all my eye!
Was all my eye!

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