192

DEATH S DOINGS.

There's your legs and your feet, that once bore you

about,Are now useless as logs, with the dropsy or gout;And your hands are so feeble, you scarcely can passTo your neighbour the bottle, or fill him a glass.—And further the Stomach had gone on to state,When the Tongue,'tis imagined, took up the debate." Did you speak to the Brain V said a low piping

voice;(It was just before dinner), I much should rejoiceTo find such a being you wot of, my friend,But he and his measures have long had an end ;A nondescript substance now fills up the spaceIn that once intellectual thought-breeding place.By some 't'as been thought that your chymical skill(Which now, it is known, has the power to kill),And your fumes have destroyed all the power of

thinking,So that no sense remains but of eating and drinking.What is said in the Bible has long been forgot,Of the passage which told, there was ' Death in

the pot.'—But the sauce is preparing to season the fish;When too late 'twill be found, there is Death in

the dish."