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ODE TO TOBACCO.
THOU who, when fears attack, Bid'st them avaunt, and Black Care, at the horseman's back
Perching, unseatest; Sweet when the morn is gray ; Sweet, when they've cleared away Lunch; and at close of day
Possibly sweetest :
I have a liking old
Not to thy credit;
How one (or two at most)
Drops make a cat a ghost
Useless, except to roast
Doctors have said it:
How they who use fusees
Meagre as lizards;
Into their gizzards.
Confound such knavish tricks ! Yet know I five or six Smokers who freely mix
Still with their neighbours ; Jones—who, I'm glad to say,
Asked leave of Mrs. J.)
Daily absorbs a clay
After his labours.
Cats may have had their goose
Thoughtfully taken ?
Here's to thee, Bacon !
DOVER TO MUNICH.
TAREWELL, farewell! Before our prow
Leaps in white foam the noisy channel, A tourist's cap is on my brow,
My legs are cased in tourist's flannel :
Around me gasp the invalids
(The quantity to-night is fearful) I take a brace or so of weeds,
And feel (as yet) extremely cheerful.
The night wears on :-my thirst I quench
With one imperial pint of porter ; Then drop upon a casual bench
(The bench is short, but I am shorter)
Place 'neath my head the havre-sac
Which I have stowed my little all in, And sleep, though moist about the back,
Serenely in an old tarpaulin.
Bed at Ostend at 5 A.M.
Breakfast at 6, and train 6.30,
Tickets to Königswinter (mem.
The seats objectionably dirty).
And onward thro' those dreary flats
We move, with scanty space to sit on, Flanked by stout girls with steeple hats,
And waists that paralyse a Briton ;
By many a tidy little town,
Where tidy little Fraus sits knitting ; (The men's pursuits are, lying down,
Smoking perennial pipes, and spitting ;)