A tune with a nourish or two!
No cow-herd am I but my staying
To play second fiddle won't do.
Singing (to myself)—With my tol de rol tol-e-rate LABBY, &c.
Don't chivey her! I would allot her
"Three acres," and lots of sweet hay.
Alas! while I'm talking, they've shot her!
Well! heifers, like dogs, have their day!
Singing (to myself, as before)—With my tol lol de rol-licking LABBY, &c.
Latest.—After dinner, Mr. GLADSTONE fell asleep in his chair! He was seen to smile, although his repose seemed somewhat disturbed. Presently he was heard to murmur melodiously the words of the old song, slightly adapted to the most recent event,—"Heifer of thee I'm fondly dreaming!" Then a shudder ran through his frame as he pronounced softly a Latin sentence; it was "Labor omnia vincit!" Then he awoke.