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.