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SONG.

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SONG. THE RAILWAY HUSBAND. WELL, then-I won't put up with it it really is too bad A quiet chat with Harry now, is never to be had. I never can exchange a word from morn till eventide, His head runs quite on railways—and he thinks on nought beside. Each friend we have is leaving, for Baden or for Bonn, Venice, the Rhine, Zurich, or Spain, whilst I can but look on. I mildy hint I want a change—my husband but replies And so do I, the Birmingham and Oxford then might rise The Heaths are all at Ilampstead, and Walkers gone to Ryde, The Woolleys into Berlin, and the Stones to the sea side Those Browns have gone to Coventry, and all the Smiths, I knew, Having been often told, at last have gone to Jericho The Howards to the South of France, for three months have gone off, Because their eldest girl got up a little hacking cough— I tried to get one up as well, and spoke of Nantes and Tours, My husband said That line can be no business of yours." The Percys last upon the Pier at Dover have been seen, All cloaked and coated, just about to start by the On-dine, I ask and where shall we go ?" he replies, with absent air, The central Nova Scotia," a pretty safe affair." Oh! why—when Sir James Graham put the race course gam- bling down, Did he not also crush, as well, each railway scheme in town ? The cheating worse than any pea and thimble," I declare, You see the line, and then you don't—now here, and now its there And when my husband sleeps at night, strange dreams his slumbers vex— He starts up wildly in the bed, and raves about group X." His heart's bowed down with weight of care, which any one may see, His broker is his only friend—in fact, his share ami. I hint about the trossacks, and how I should like to go— An agitated whisper murmurs Orleans and Bordeaux." His heart's not in the highlands, chasing deer along the crags, But in that horrid Capet Court—*tis there he hunts his stags. Ere railways had been thought about, oh what a time of bliss Come broad wheeled waggon—slow post chaise—come anything but this, Yet atop—about our leaving town he says he wants to talk— A pleasant engineering tour from Linderton to York!" ALBERT SMITH. Music by Parry. i

EPISTLE TO MY SISTER.,-"

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DOMESTIC NEWS.

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LORD JOHN RUSSELL'S LETTER

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Corn Trade.

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LONDON MARKETS. -