Mrs. Merdle Discourseth Of Wishes And Her Sufferings.

A poem by Horatio Alger, Jr.

'If wishes were horses'--I've heard when a girl--
'If wishes were horses, the beggars would ride'--
If wishes were pheasants, I'd wish with a skirl
Till cooked ones came flying and sat by my side.

A fig, then, for doctors, their tinctures and drugs;
Good eating would cure me, with plenty of game;
And as for pill boxes, and bottles, and jugs,
I wouldn't know one, when I saw it, by name.

Oh, dear! such a load now my stomach oppresses,
While eating these trifles, attempting to dine--
I'm sure 'taint the turkey--it must be my dresses--
And if so 't will ease them to sip sherry wine.

'Tis sad, though, to be such a sad invalid--
Dear me, Colonel Dinewell, you've done eating meat--
Your doctor, like mine, I hope hasn't forbid,
That you shouldn't have, as I do, so little to eat.
Ah! well then, I see, though I've hardly begun,
The meats and the solids must go right away;
So bring in the pudding, if Susan's got one,
Which will for a while one's appetite stay.

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