Spoken.] Gentlemen of the Quizzical Society, please to answer to your names.-Farmer Scroggins? Why I be here.-Doctor Horseleach? Here.-Parson Paunch? Here.-Taylor Tit? Here.(So he goes on for about twenty.) At last-you're here-are you all assembled? All, all, all, all— So here's to you, Mr Wiggins, Come tell us what the news is, Of the times, what do people say? The cause of all this pother and rout― Are the rules of this society, Let the secretary read them out. Spoken.] Every member of this society that spills his liquor in his neighbor's pocket, shall forfeit 2d.-Every member of this society that singes his neighbor's wig with his pipe, shall forfeit 2d. Every member of this society that refuses to laugh at a good joke, shall forfeit 2d.-Every member of this society who reproaches his neighbor with coming to distress by unavoidable misfortunes, shall forfeit 2d.— Mr. President, I move that this forfeit be a shilling. And I second the motion. Are you all agreed? I am, unanimously-A noble resolution.-D'ye think so? Why, then, here's to you, &c. And now the potent liquor Not even spares the vicar, But to all their noddles mounts; Each his favorite tale recounts: While the company's lost in smoke. Spoken.] Upon my soul, neighbor, I had no hand in the death of your wife; it was all in the way of business. Nay, but doctor, 'twere a cursed unneighborly thing of you; not that the woman were any sitch great things, but to put a body to sitch an expense. -Why, you don't tell me so! killed fifteen with your own hand? Fifteen, by my laurels ! D'ye hear that, butcher? Hear it? yes; but I'll lay him what he dares, he has not killed so many as I have by hundreds.-Powder my whiskers, says the barber. Come, come, gentlemen, says the bellows-maker, no breezes. Let me exhort you to temperance, says the parson. Amen, says the clerk. That's right, says the undertaker, let us bury all animosities. That's what I like, says the fiddler, I like to see harmony restored. D'ye though! -You like to see harmony restored! Why, then, here's to you, &c. THE UNIVERSITY OF GOTTINGEN. By the Rt. Hon. George Canning. WHENE'ER with haggard eyes 1 view -niversity of Gottingen. -niversity of Gottingen. Sweet 'kerchief, check'd with heavenly blue, At least I thought so at the U -niversity of Gottingen. Barbs, barbs, alas! how swift ye flew, -niversity of Gottingen. This faded form! this pallid hue! -niversity of Gottingen. There first for thee my passion grew, -niversity of Gottingen. Sun, moon, and thou vain world, adieu! -niversity of Gottingen. LIBERTY TREE.-By R. T. Payne. IN a chariot of light from the regions of day, Ten thousand celestials directed the way, A fair budding branch from the gardens above, She brought in her hand, as a pledge of her love, The celestial exotic struck deep in the ground, Unmindful of names, or distinctions, they came, With one spirit endu'd, they one friendship pursued, Beneath this fair tree, like the patriarchs of old, Unvex'd with the troubles of silver and gold, Her battles they fought without getting a groat, But hear, O ye swains, ('tis a tale most profane,) Kings, Commons and Lords, are uniting amain, From the east to the west blow the trumpet to arms, Let the far and the near all unite with a cheer, THE TURF SHALL BE MY FRAGRANT THE turf shall be my fragrant shrine, My choir shall be the moonlight waves, I'll see, by day, some glade unknown, Thy Heaven, on which 'tis bliss to look, I'll read thy anger in the rack That clouds awhile the day-beam's track, Thy mercy in the azure hue Of sunny brightness breaking through! There's nothing bright, above, below, There's nothing dark, below, above, |