Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1857-10-03

We venture to say that there has not appeared In prir
since the day that George Coleman the younger complete
his Broad Grins, eTusion of humor and sarcasm $,
perior to the following, from the pen Of able
Unable, and accomplished correspondents Barney.
BEAUTIFUL LEGEND.
BARNEY.
Mr.. Patrick o. Rourke, from the city Of Cork,
Was an Irishman, stately and tall.
As ever played rub, at bachelors club,
Or danced, at a bachelors ball.
His eyes they bright, as the stars in the night
When Phobus has gone to repose;
And they winkcd from his face with comical grace
At the tip of his jolly rcd
Ills illgautn shape spite Of needles and t,pe,
Exhibited manliucss rare
And the ladies exclaimed. with blush-half ashamed
d" He'd be handsome with NOTHING TO WEAR
But his garments alas like window of glass,
Were sadly transparent to view;
And Of means to repair, he had little TO spare,
Because he had " NOTHING TO DO"
Full many chap, under kindred mishap,
Has sought the advice of a friend;
But Pat knew full we'll, that his friends would repe
man who had NOTHING TO SPEND.
lie chose a most desperate course.
And married mail although sadly afraid
0fbabies, scratcbed-flce, and divorce.
"Iis BETTER quoth he, in a moment Of glee
ITO marry n fortune think,
Than to live in the street and have NOTHING TO EAr
With plenty of NOTHING TO pRINKn
Now blush while tell, of thing that beftl,
As Paddy was going to bed
On the night Of the day, when, chronicles say,
Himself and his Bridget were wed.
The beautiful bride, soft confusion to hide,
Her garments commenced unhook,
And she shook to whic discarding her dress
With whispered plaze, Pathrick, don't look"
Like beast in his stall, Paddy turned to the wall
And listened with painful SURPRISE
To- rustling aud rush, like the sound Of a bush,
BY hurricane borne to the skies.
An hour sped away with its kindred to play,
But still the strange hustle went on,
Till Paddy grew bolder aud peepcd DER his shoulder
To mark if his pcnancc done.
Ye Gods what sight, by the glance Of the light,
Was dimy exposed to his gaze,
And made him cry out with terrible shout,
e BE jabcrs Pm all in amaze!'
Standing here, hanging there, on couch, over chair
Like huts in an Indian town.
Were the hug nanIeess things which fair lady swings
Beneath the broad folds Of gown.
An hundred there stood If the crinoine brood,
In towering and strong barricade
While full set of teeth, and wig placed beneath,
We're on the pier table displayed.
And numberess bags, full of cotton and rags
Were scattered about on the floor;
In shape and crest, to the matrony breast,
shocking resemblance they bore.
The husband looked on, but his Bridget was gone,
Dissolved into separate parts,
And nought could give life, to his fragments of wife,
But master of womanIy arts.
lie looked for while, with a horrible smile,
At the fabrics below and above
And rallied at the fashion. in hidcous passion,
That left him with NOTHING TO LOVE-
I'm sorry said Pat, with twirl of his hat,
" But I'm safe, for the toughest Of weather,
And as the sly elf fell apart of herself
I'll be hanged If put her together :"
Then he took the loose clothes ere he went to repose
And placed them in crinolnc bags.
Resolved on the morrow, when freed from his sorrow
To sell them for metal and rags.
Ny story is finished, the hero hath vanished,
And spectres glide off in play,
And If with the moral, my reader should quarrel,
Why then have-NoruNG TO SAY!