Had made it so like in every part

That there was n't a chance for one to start.
For the wheels were just as strong as the thills,
And the floor was just as strong as the sills,
And the panels just as strong as the floor,
And the whippletree neither less nor more,
And the back-crossbar as strong as the fore,
And spring and axle and hub encore.
And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt
In another hour it will be worn out!

First of November, 'Fifty-five!

This morning the parson takes a drive.
Now, small boys, get out of the way!
Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay,
Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay.

"Huddup!" said the parson. Off went they.

The parson was working his Sunday's text, -
Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed.
At what the - Moses was coming next.
All at once the horse stood still,
Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill.
- First a shiver, and then a thrill,
Then something decidedly like a spill,-

And the parson was sitting upon a rock,
At half past nine by the meet'n'-house clock, -
Just the hour of the Earthquake shock!

What do you think the parson found,
When he got up and stared around?
The poor old chaise in a heap or mound,
As if it had been to the mill and ground!
You see, of course, if you 're not a dunce,
How it went to pieces all at once,
All at once, and nothing first, -
Just as bubbles do when they burst.

End of the wonderful one-hoss shay.
Logic is logic. That's all I say.

ESTIVATION.

AN UNPUBLISHED POEM, BY MY LATE LATIN TUTOR.

IN candent ire the solar splendor flames;
The foles, languescent, pend from arid rames;
His humid front the cive, anheling, wipes,
And dreams of erring on ventiferous ripes.

How dulce to vive occult to mortal eyes, Dorm on the herb with none to supervise, Carp the suave berries from the crescent vine, And bibe the flow from longicaudate kine!

To me, alas! no verdurous visions come,
Save yon exiguous pool's conferva-scum,
No concave vast repeats the tender hue
That laves my milk-jug with celestial blue !

Me wretched! Let me curr to quercine shades! Effund your albid hausts, lactiferous maids!

O, might I vole to some umbrageous clump,Depart, be off, — excede, — evade,

erump!

CONTENTMENT.

"Man wants but little here below."

LITTLE I ask; my wants are few;
I only wish a hut of stone,
(A very plain brown stone will do,)
That I may call my own;

And close at hand is such a one,
In yonder street that fronts the sun.

Plain food is quite enough for me;
Three courses are as good as ten; –
If Nature can subsist on three,

Thank Heaven for three. Amen!
I always thought cold victual nice;
My choice would be vanilla-ice.

I care not much for gold or land;

Give me a mortgage here and there, —

Some good bank stock,

some note of hand,

Or trifling railroad share;

I only ask that Fortune send

A little more than I shall spend.

Honors are silly toys, I know,

And titles are but empty names;

I would, perhaps, be Plenipo,

But only near St. James;

I'm very sure I should not care
To fill our Gubernator's chair.

Jewels are bawbles; 't is a sin

To care for such unfruitful things; One good-sized diamond in a pin,Some, not so large, in rings,

A ruby, and a pearl, or so,

--

My dame should dress in cheap attire ;

(Good, heavy silks are never dear ;) — I own perhaps I might desire

-Some shawls of true Cashmere,—
Some marrowy crapes of China silk,
Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk.