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pots of beautiful balsams, ornamented the window where she workeit ; and she thought it very pleasant to sit there on a fine day, like this, with these pretty flowers before her, and her canary singing his lively tunes.
THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN.
HAMELIN's towns in Brunswick,
By famous Hanover city;
But when begins my ditty ?
From vermin was a pity.
And bit the babies in the cradles,
And licked the soup from the cook's own ladles ;
By drowning their speaking
With shrieking and squeaking
At last the people in a body
To the Town Hall came flocking. 'Tis clear,” said they, “our Mayor's a noddy;
And as for our Corporation-shocking
At this the Mayor and Corporation
An hour they sat in council,
At length the Mayor broke silence : “For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell;
I wish I were a mile hence! It's easy to bid one rack one's brainI'm sure my poor head aches again; I've scratched it so, and all in vain. Oh, for a trap, a trap, a trap!" Just as he said this, what should hap At the chamber door but a gentle tap ? “Bless us !” cried the Mayor; “what's that ? Only a scraping of shoes on the mat. Anything like the sound of a rat Makes my heart go pit-a-pat.
“Come in!" the Mayor cried, looking bigger;
He advanced to the councıl table :
By means of a secret charm, to draw
After me so as you never saw'
A scarf of red and yellow stripe,
And at the scarf's end nung a pipe; And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying, As if impatient to be playing Upon this pipe, as low it dangled, Over his vesture so old-fangled.) “Yet,” said he, “poor piper as I am, In Tartary I freed the Cham,
Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats;
Of a monstrous brood of vampire bats:
town of rats, Will you give me a thousand guilders ?" “One! Fifty thousand !" was the exclamation Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.
Into the street the Piper stept,
Smiling first a little smile,
In his quiet pipe the while.
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
Families by tens and dozens;
Wherein all plunged and perished,
(As he the manuscript he cherished) To Rat-land home his commentary, Which was : “At the first shrill note of the pipe I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, And putting apples, wondrous ripe, Into a cider-press's gripe; And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards, And a leaving ajar of conserve cupboards, And a drawing the corks of train-oil flasks, And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks ; And it seemed as if a voice
(Sweeter far than by harp or by. psaltery Is breathed) called out, Oh, rats, rejoice!
The world is grown to one vast drysaltery! To munch
your nuncheon, Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!' And just as a bulky sugar puncheon, All ready staved, like a great sun shone Glorious scarce an inch before me, Just as methought it said, 'Come, bere me!' I found the Weser rolling o'er me.”