"
But do you pretend, it may be asked, in the course of a three days'
journey, however lengthened by celerity of conveyance, or favoured by
advantages of season or weather--do you pretend to have experienced that
very eminent degree of gratification which the country is capable of
communicating? Certainly not. I speak of these scenes but as of things,
which before my own hasty and unsatisfied glances came like shadows--so
departed. Instead of two or three days, a whole month should be spent
between Mentz, Coblentz, and Bonn, in order fully to know and thoroughly
to enjoy the beauties and grandeurs with which that space
abounds.--_Stevenson's Tour in France, &c._
* * * * *
THE BARBER.
Nick Razorblade a barber was,
A _strapping_ lad was he;
And he could shave with such a grace,
It was a joy to see!
And tho' employ'd within his house,
He kept like rat in hole;
All those that pass'd the barber's door,
Could always see his _pole_!
His dress was rather plain than rich,
Nor fitted over well;
Yet, tho' no _macaroni_, Nick,
He often _cut a swell_!
And Nick was brave, and he could fight,
As many times he proved;
A lamb became a lion fierce,
Whenever he was moved!
Like many of his betters, who
To field with pistols rush,
When Nicky _lather'd_ any one,
He was obliged to _brush_!
Some say Nick was a brainless _block_,
While those who've seen him waving
His bright sharp razor, o'er scap'd chins,
Declare he was a _shaving_!
His next door neighbour, Nelly Jones,
A maid of thirty-eight,
'Twas said regarded Nick with smiles,
But folks will always prate.
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