Says PHYSIC, "Fees, not science, have been far too much my wishes,
ma'am."
"Truth," says DIVINITY, "I've loved much less than loaves and fishes,
ma'am."
Says each to each, "We're simpletons, or sad deceivers, some of us;
And I am sure, ma'am, I don't know whatever will become of us."
THE RAILWAY TRAVELER'S FAREWELL TO HIS FAMILY. PUNCH.
'T was business call'd a Father to travel by the Rail;
His eye was calm, his hand was firm, although his cheek was pale.
He took his little boy and girl, and set them on his knee;
And their mother hung about his neck, and her tears flowed fast and
free.
I'm going by the Rail, my dears—ELIZA, love, don't cry—
Now, kiss me both before I leave, and wish Papa good-by.
I hope I shall be back again, this afternoon, to tea,
And then, I hope, alive and well, that your Papa you'll see.
I'm going by the Rail, my dears, where the engines puff and hiss;
And ten to one the chances are that something goes amiss;
And in an instant, quick as thought—before you could cry "Ah!"
An accident occurs, and—say good-by to poor Papa!
Sometimes from scandalous neglect, my dears, the sleepers sink,
And then you have the carriages upset, as you may think.
The progress of the train, sometimes, a truck or coal-box checks,
And there's a risk for poor Papa's, and every body's necks.
Or there may be a screw loose, a hook, or bolt, or pin—
Or else an ill-made tunnel may give way, and tumble in;
And in the wreck the passengers and poor Papa remain
Confined, till down upon them comes the next Excursion-train.
If a policeman's careless, dears, or if not over-bright,
When he should show a red flag, it may be he shows a white;
Between two trains, in consequence, there's presently a clash,
If poor Papa is only bruised, he's lucky in the smash.