70 



OUR COLUMNS. 



April, 1892. 



Wetherell's (Miss) The House in Town. 



The Gold of Chickaree. 



Lewes' (G-eorge Henry) The Physiology of Common 

 Life, 2 vols. 



Tucker's (Charlotte M., A.L.O.E.J The Lost Jewel. 



Hebrew Heroes. 



Giberne's (Agnes) The Adopted Daughter. 

 Lamb's (Charles) Complete works in prose and 



verse ; edited by JR. H. Shepherd. 

 Lowth's (George T.) The Wanderer in Western 



France. 



Wilson's (Rev. T. P.) True to his Colours. 



Books presented : — 

 *Postlethwayt's (Malachy) Universal Dictionary of 

 Trade and Commerce, 2 vols., presented by Mr. 

 G. Hurst. 



* Anderson's (J. Corbet) Antiquities of Croydon 

 Church. 



Swiss Pictures drawn with Pen and Pencil. 

 *Art Journal, 1891. 

 *Magazine of Art, 1891. 



Whymper's (Edward) Travels amongst the Great 



Andes of the Equator. 

 *Dictionary of National. Biography , vol. 30. 

 Tennyson's (Alfred, Lord) The Foresters, Robin 



Hood, and Maid Marian. 

 Freeman's (E. A) The History of Sicily, vol. 3. 



Moltke's (Field Marshal) Letters from Russia, 



presented by Mr. E. Ransom. 

 Penn (William) iNlemoirs of the public and private 



life of, presented by Mr. E. Ransom. 



Cf)e ®erunD ®rmDet'0 lament. 



(A Doleful Ditty of the Distant Past.) 



Never no grist comes into my mill, 

 Never no coin drops into my till, 

 And my wife has no flour, 

 And my daughter no dower. 

 For poor I began, and poor I am still, 

 Di, — do, — dum. 

 Grinding the Gerund. 



Di, yes, die, I shall certainly die 

 Of an early decline, it is obvious why, 

 On the husk and the bran 

 Let those live who can. 

 For that cannot I, for that cannot I, 

 Di, — do, — dum. 

 Grinding the Gerund. 



Do, yes, <fo, it is constantly do. 

 For I give, and I give (and I never say no,) 

 Not meat from the bone. 

 But blood from the stone. 

 For poor I came here, and poor I must go, 

 Di, — do, — dum, 

 Grinding the Gerund. 



Dum, yes, dumb, how I wish I were dumb ! 

 But that cannot be till the end shall have come, 

 For the voice that you hear 

 Is the creak of my gear. 

 And the plunge of my wheel, and the whirr of my drum, 

 Di, — do, — dum. 

 Grinding the Gerund. 



