She gave a loud screech! and I could not well blame her, But lame as I was, I'd no wish to get lamer;

So I made my escape-ne'er an antelope fleeter,

Lest my verse, like the poet, should limp through lag metre.

The following appeared in an Edinburgh newspaper some years ago:—

THE LENT OARS.

Illustrating Fifty different Renderings of the Letters composing the Word "Monastery."

I am a boatman on the Lago Maggiore, but, fool that I am, I lent my oars to the Monks of St. Thomas's, who used to cross the lake in their own boat, and who, on my inquiring about them, vowed they never had got them. I spoke to the mayor of the canton, who transmitted a letter my dear Mary had written, and promised he would send for an answer himself. Having waited for some time rather impatiently, I set off to the monastery to inquire if the mayor sent or not for the answer to Mary's note about my ten oars. The abbot had gone on a visit to the adjoining convent, and I was informed that the letter was sent there, and they thought it likely my oars were there too. I went thither, and on gaining admission, I inquired if the answer had been sent for. "Ay, monster," said she, "though ten mayors had sent they would not have got one." Come, come, no mastery over me; may no rest be mine here or hereafter if I do not have my oars! Yes, matron, there is one St. Mary to whom I shall pray for interference." "See your stone Mary there," said she, pointing to an image

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of the blessed Virgin set in the wall. I prostrated myself before it, saying, "O my one star, my Mary! look down on my tears, and O try means to get me back my oars. May my soul, which has met no rays of thine for long, store many favours now. Oh! Mary, do so try, amen." On rising I was astounded on hearing the matron exclaim, "My! treason!" Woman though she was, I could have smitten her to the ground, for here came the abbot angrily and anxiously inquiring, "What treason?" Taking me for a French spy, he approached cautiously, but seeing as yet no arms about me, he grew bolder, and caused me to be searched for army notes or papers. Though he found nothing, I could scarce prevail upon him to grant a truce or amnesty till I could explain my errand. Ay, no terms with the villain," said he, threatening to tan my sore hide for me. I remonstrated, "Stay, Ermon, be not hasty; I trump you no mean story in showing you this ;" and here I showed him my torn, seamy coat, as evidence that no government had favoured me with a degree in money arts. Romans," said he, "call Rome nasty, and I was suspicious you were one of that kind." "No, my senator, I am nothing great, but I am not so bad as that." I was glad to get off without further mentioning my oars, and so left the place.

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"Yet

I was terribly vexed, however, at the way affairs had turned out, so that I could not help telling my care to an old woman I met not far off, and whom I knew. "Do you see yon stream on this side of the lake?" said I; "many tears have I shed there; I never refused to lend an oar when asked, but no one sent my oar back, till now I have lost them all." "Dear me, that's

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scandalous; take a rest on my bundle for a short time; I am sure I saw Tom N. Sayer with some of them, and I'll just run over and see.” I did as she said, and had not long to wait for her return. "Ye ran most nimbly, but how sped you?" At no great rate, my son; he has some, but he ran away.” "Ran away!" I exclaimed. Yes, Tom ran, though I told him you meant to say no term of payment for the bother you had been put to." May he rot—yes, man, rot—for his roguery; by all the bloody heroes, from Mars to Ney, were I a tailor I would try no seam till I found him; and then-. But I am no tailor, I am but a boatman; so I see no way to make up my loss but by laying a little on my rates of passage or smuggling a trifle of Morny's tea." "If a tear, my son, would avail thee anything, I would shed plenty; but you may rest on my doing what I can for you, so neither hinder nor stay me just now, as I must away." "Goodbye," said I; "but may Old Davy tar my nose for me if I don't watch that chap. Fine way for a poor tar's money to go, always buying oars. Yes, Tom, I'll be down smart on ye some of these days."

Thoroughly disgusted, I turned my toes, ran swiftly home, and vowed myself a snore at my ease, unless my mentor say me nay.

We conclude with the following selection of these

conceits :

Florence Nightingale,
Flit on, cheering angel.
Revolution,

Love to ruin.

Parliament,

Partial men.

Penitentiary,
Nay, I repent it,

Presbyterian,

Best in prayer.
Midshipman,
Mind his map.

French Revolution,

Violence run forth.

Masquerade,

Queer as Mad.
Sweetheart,

There we sat.

THE PALINDROME.

ALINDROMIC, or Reciprocal Verses (Gr. palin, backwards; dromos, a running) is the name given to verses which read the same either backwards or forwards. They are the most difficult of all the literary frivolities we have yet met with their composition requiring considerable skill and invention, yet having no useful purpose. The English language is not very well adapted for this kind of Jump-Jim-Crowism, and only a few examples are to be met with; it is more common, however, in Latin and Greek, and there are a number in these languages. There is, indeed, a curious and rare volume in Greek of this nature, being a poem by "Ambrose Hieromonachus Pamperes, with Scholia and all the Histories contained in it; being of great use to those who study it deeply. Now first published, 1802, at Vienna in Austria, at the Greek printing press of George Bendotes." This work consists of one