HOUSEHOLD GODS IN TRANSIT.

Tired to death, but walking fast, Along Broadway, one night, there passed A youth, who bore a pretty nice Umbrella, with this strange device, "Furtheruptown!" His anxious eyes and weary feet Hunted the houses in each street; And like a New Year's fish-horn rung The accents of that unknown tongue "Furtheruptown!" In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright; Beyond, the spectral street-lamp shone, And from his lips escaped a groan, "Furtheruptown!" "Try not that street," the old man said; "A tenement-house is just ahead— A public school is by its side"; Then loud that clarion voice replied, "Furtheruptown!" "Oh, stay," the broker said, "and rest; This brown-stone house will suit you best." A tear stood in his bright blue eye, Sadly he said, "The rent's too high"; "Furtheruptown!" "Beware of the livery-stable's smell, Beware the engine-house as well!" This was the agent's last good night— A voice replied, far out of sight, "Furtheruptown!" At break of day, as heavenward The Central Park policeman stared, Watching the gathering sunbeams there, A voice rang through the startled air, "Furtheruptown!" By following up the unusual sound, A dying traveler they found, Still grasping his no longer nice Umbrella, with the strange device, "Furtheruptown!" There, in the Reservoir, they say, "Drownded" but beautiful he lay, While somewhere over Bloomingdale A voice fell like a rocket's tail, "Furtheruptown!" 1877. New York Evening Post.

You must wake and call me early, call me early, husband dear, To-morrow'll be the maddest time of all the round New Year; Of all the circle of the year the maddest, muddiest day, For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May. Be sure and take the hammer round—we shall have need of that; Save all the paper you can find—and don't forget the cat. Don't mix the pickles and preserves, nor throw th' old brooms away, For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May. And oh! tell Bridget, husband, to be careful how she moves The earthenware and crockery and other things she loves; And if upon the sidewalk you should hear a dreadful crash, You'll know our china dinner-set has gone to eternal smash. Of course, some common things will break, some costly ones perhaps; But you can't expect to move, you know, without a few mishaps. And when we've got the moving done, you'll have some bills to pay, For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May. The night winds come and go, my dear, along the vacant street, And the happy stars above them do not seem to mean to cheat; But to-morrow it will be sure to rain the whole of the livelong day, For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May. So you must wake and call me early, call me early, husband dear, To-morrow'll be the maddest time of all the round New Year; To-morrow'll be of all the year the maddest, muddiest day, For to-morrow's the first of May, my love, to-morrow's the first of May.