Of science and logic he chatters,

As fine and as fast as he can;

Though I am no judge of such matters,
I'm sure he's a talented man.

His stories and jests are delightful ;-
Not stories or jests, dear, for you;
The jests are exceedingly spiteful,

The stories not always quite true.
Perhaps to be kind and veracious
May do pretty well at Lausanne;

But it never would answer,-good gracious! Chez nous-in a talented man.

He sneers, how my Alice would scold him!

At the bliss of a sigh or a tear;

He laughed only think !—when I told him How we cried o'er Trevelyan last year;

I vow I was quite in a passion;
I broke all the sticks of my fan;
But sentiment's quite out of fashion,
It seems, in a talented man.

Lady Bab, who is terribly moral,
Has told me that Tully is vain,
And apt-which is silly-to quarrel,
And fond-which is sad-of champagne.
I listened, and doubted, dear Alice,
For I saw, when my Lady began,
It was only the Dowager's malice ;-
She does hate a talented man!

He's hideous, I own it. But fame, love,
Is all that these eyes can adore;

He's lame, but Lord Byron was lame, love,
And dumpy, but so is Tom Moore.

Then his voice,—such a voice! my sweet

creature,

It's like your Aunt Lucy's toucan : But oh! what's a tone or a feature, When once one's a talented man?

My mother, you know, all the season,
Has talked of Sir Geoffrey's estate ;
And truly, to do the fool reason,

He has been less horrid of late.

But to-day, when we drive in the carriage, I'll tell her to lay down her plan;

If ever I venture on marriage,

It must be a talented man!

P. S.-I have found, on reflection,

entre nous;

One fault in my friend,
Without it, he'd just be perfection ;—

Poor fellow, he has not a sou!

And so, when he comes in September

To shoot with my uncle, Sir Dan, I've promised mamma to remember He's only a talented man!

LOCHINVAR.

(LADY HERON'S SONG.)

BY SIR WALTER SCOTT.

O, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the

west,

Through all the wide Border his steed was

the best;

And save his good broadsword he weapon had none,

He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.

So faithful in love, and so dauntless in

war,

There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.