Something merry and musical try,
Is my voice too high? too low?
Answer, Polly, yes or no!
Not a word, undutiful bird,
For barley-sugar and sugar-plums—fie!”
But Poll's eyes still goggled at the door through which Uncle Tim and his finery had vanished. An almond or two from that magazin de comfitures, Mr. Bosky's waistcoat pocket, soon revived in the abstracted bird a relish for the good things of this world. He wetted his whistle cordially with a spoonful of maraschino, and sharpening his beak against the wires of his cage, presented it for a salute. He then gave token of a song, and the lauréat led, to the tune of the “Dandy O!”
THE QUAKER DUET.=
O Tabitha, in truth, I'm a sober Quaker youth;
Then Hymen's knot, the pretty girls, to spite'em, tye.
My heart is in your trap; you've crimp'd it, like your