Mrs. Merdle Describes the Sufferings of Dyspepsia and its Remedy.

But come, now, I hear by the sound of the ringing That dinner is ready; and time none to spare To finish our eating in time for the singing At Niblo's; or at Burton's drop in for a stare.

To 'kill time' the object, whatever the source is, And that is the reason we sit at the table And call for our dinner in slow-coming courses, To kill, while we eat, all the time we are able.

Though little, I told you, that's worthy your taste You'll find on our table, pray don't think us mean— Your welcome is ample—that's better than waste— Oh! here comes the soup in a silver tureen— 'Tis mock turtle too—so good for digestion: That kills me by inches, the wretched complaint Dyspepsia—to cure which, I take by suggestion Port-wine in the soup, when I feel slightly faint.