IN LIQUOR.

A MOUSE, one day on frolic bent, About a brewery roaming, Into a beer vat sudden went, And called, with sighs and groaning, Upon a cat, which passed that way, Though to its sight most hateful: “Sweet puss, come, lift me out, I pray, And I’ll prove ever grateful.” “How would it help you in the least,” Replied Grimalkin, grinning, “When I at once would on you feast?— And where would be the sinning?” “And better so than here to drown, Dear puss! So help me speedy, And I’ll to you my life pay down, And will not call you greedy. “Quick! or you will be all too late! I perish—I am freezing!” Puss helped him out; but, luckless fate! The beer fumes set her sneezing. The mouse she dropped, which sped away, And in its safe hole nestled. Puss, disappointed of her prey, With craft and anger wrestled. “Come from that hole,” she cried, “and roam With me in regions upper.” “Excuse me, puss; I’ll keep at home. Go elsewhere seek your supper.” “You cheating rascal! Think, O think! You promised I should eat you, If I would help you. Now you shrink,— Come out! let me entreat you.” “I know I promised,” mousie said, “Yet wonder not, nor bicker; For when such promise it was made, You know, I was in liquor!”