THE PHYSICIAN'S PRAYER TO ÆOLUS.
God of the winds, oh! grant my prayer,
And end this solemn frolic;
Or, when I next attend the fair,
Defend them from the cholic.
But if thy brother of the bow
To physic bind me fast,
Grant that the old from me may go,
For cure, to Dr. Last!
Release me from the dry concern
Of listening to their moaning,
And from your votary ever turn
Old dames with cholic groaning!
For patients, oh, to me impart
The gay, the young, the witty;
Such as may interest the heart.
This prayer, oh grant, in pity!
"Allow me to look at them," said Street, as soon as Croker had finished reading.
"I think Eliot clever," said Hertford. "What has become of him?"
"Oh," replied Amy, "I believe he is going to die he has grown so very dull and heavy. Do you know, I told him a very interesting story one day last week, and he did not at all listen to it; and before I had finished repeating it a second time he fell fast asleep."
"Poor fellow!" said Street: he could not stand the second edition.
Mr. Graham sat on my left hand, and was as attentive to me as possible. Graham was a beauty; a very Apollo in form, with handsome features, particularly his teeth and eyes; sensible too, and well educated.
"I brought you two together, because I knew you would fall in love with each other," said Lowther.
"How impossible," thought I, as the stranger in Hyde Park, as I last saw him, or fancied I saw him blush, crossed my mind. I was not disposed to admire anything else, indeed; but I rather think Graham was pedantic.
He spoke to me a good deal of Fred Lamb, with whom he had been travelling on the Continent.
"Fred Lamb has often been jealous of me," said Graham; "but he would be jealous of any man; yet I have always liked Fred much better than ever he liked me."