THE BRIEFLESS BARRISTER.

A BALLAD.

AN Attorney was taking a turn,
In shabby habiliments drest;
His coat it was shockingly worn,
And the rust had invested his vest.

His breeches had suffered a breach,

JOHN G. SAXE.

His linen and worsted were worse;
He had scarce a whole crown in his hat,
And not half-a-crown in his purse.

And thus as he wandered along,
A cheerless and comfortless elf,
He sought for relief in a song,
Or complainingly talked to himself:

"Unfortunate man that I am!

I've never a client but grief;
The case is, I've no case at all,

And in brief, I've ne'er had a brief!

"I've waited and waited in vain,

Expecting an 'opening' to find,

Where an honest young lawyer might gain
Some reward for the toil of his mind.

"'Tis not that I'm wanting in law,
Or lack an intelligent face,
That others have cases to plead,

While I have to plead for a case.

“(), how can a modest young man
E'er hope for the smallest progression-

The profession's already so full

Of lawyers so full of profession!"

While thus he was strolling around,

His eye accidentally fell

On a very deep hole in the ground,

And he sighed to himself, "It is well!"

To curb his emotions, he sat

On the curb-stone the space of a minute,
Then cried, “Here's an opening at last!"

And in less than a jiffy was in it!

Next morning twelve citizens came

('Twas the coroner bade them attend), To the end that it might be determined How the man had determined his end!

"The man was a lawyer, I hear,"

Quoth the foreman who sat on the corse;
"A lawyer? Alas!" said another,
"Undoubtedly he died of remorse !"

A third said, "He knew the deceased,
An attorney well versed in the laws,
And as to the cause of his death,

"Twas no doubt from the want of a cause."

The jury decided at length,

After solemnly weighing the matter,

“That the lawyer was drownded, because
He could not keep his head above water!"

SONNET TO A CLAM.

Dum tacent clamant.

INGLORIOUS FRIEND! most confident I am
Thy life is one of very little ease;

JOHN G. SAXE.

Albeit men mock thee with their similes
And prate of being "happy as a clam !"
What though thy shell protects thy fragile head
From the sharp bailiffs of the briny sea?
Thy valves are, sure, no safety-valves to thee,
While rakes are free to desecrate thy bed,
And bear thee off-as foemen take their spoil-
Far from thy friends and family to roam;
Forced, like a Hessian, from thy native home,
To meet destruction in a foreign broil!

Though thou art tender, yet thy humble bard
Declares, O clam! thy case is shocking hard!

VENUS OF THE NEEDLE.

O MARYANNE, you pretty girl,
Intent on silky labor,

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

Of sempstresses the pink and pearl,
Excuse a peeping neighbor!

Those eyes, forever drooping, give
The long brown lashes rarely;
But violets in the shadows live,—
For once unvail them fairly.

Hast thou not lent that flounce enough
Of looks so long and earnest?
Lo, here's more "penetrable stuff,"
To which thou never turnest.

Ye graceful fingers, deftly sped!
How slender, and how nimble!

O might I wind their skeins of thread,
Or but pick up their thimble!

How blest the youth whom love shall bring,

And happy stars embolden,

To change the dome into a ring,

The silver into golden!

Who'll steal some morning to her side

To take her finger's measure,

While Maryanne pretends to chide,
And blushes deep with pleasure.

Who'll watch her sew her wedding-gown,
Well conscious that it is hers,
Who 'll glean a tress, without a frown,
With those so ready scissors.

Who'll taste those ripenings of the south,

The fragrant and delicious—

Don't put the pins into your mouth,

O Maryanne, my precious!

I alınost wish it were my trust
To teach how shocking that is;
I wish I had not, as I must,

To quit this tempting lattice.

Sure aim takes Cupid, fluttering foe, Across a street so narrow;

A thread of silk to string his bow,

A needle for his arrow!