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he ran,


The press, the impartial press, that snubs

Alike a fiend's or an angel's capersA CERTAIN old Sprite, who dwells Miss Paton's soon as Beelzebub's— below

Fired off a squid in the morning ('Twere a libel, perhaps, to mention

papers : where), Came up incog., some winters ago,

"We warn good men to keep aloof To try, for a change, the London air. From a grim old Dandy, seen about

With a fire-proof wig and a cloven hoof, So well he looked, and dressed, and Through a neat-cut Hoby smoking talked,

out.' And hid his tail and his horns so Now, the Devil being a gentleman, handy,

Who piques himself on his well-bred You'd hardly have known him, as he

dealings, walked,

You may guess, when o'er these lines From ; or any other Dandy.

How much they hurt and shocked (N.B.-His horns, they say, unscrew

his feelings So he has but to take them out of the socket,

Away he posts to a man of law, And—just as some fine husbands do- And oh, 'twould make you laugh Conveniently clap them into his to 've seen 'em, pocket.)

As paw shook hand, and hand shook

paw, In short, he looked extremely natty, And 'twas ‘Hail, good fellow, well And even contrived — to his owu met,' between 'em.

great wonderBy dint of sundry scents from Gattie, Straight an indictment was preferred

And much the Devil enjoyed the jest, To keep the sulphurous hogo under.

When, looking among the judges, he

heard And so my gentleman hoofed about,

That, of all the batch, his own was Unknown to all but a chosen few

Best. At White's and Crockford's, where, no doubt,

In vain Defendant proffered proof He had many post-obits falling due. That Plaintiff's self was the Father

of EvilAlike a gamester and a wit,

Brought Hoby forth to swear to the At night he was seen with Crock- hoof, ford's crew;

And Stultz to speak to the tail of the At morn with learned dames would Devil. sit

The Jury-saints, all snug and rich, So passed his time 'twixt black and

And readers of virtuous Sunday blue,

papers— Some wished to make him an M.P.;

Found for the Plaintiff ; on hearing

which But, finding W-lks was also one, he Was heard to say 'he'd be d-d if he

The Devil gave one of his loftiest Would ever sit in one house with

capers Johnny

For oh, it was nuts to the father of lies

(As this wily fiend is named in the At length, as secrets travel fast,

And devils, whether he or she, To find it settled by laws so wise,
Are sure to be found out at last,

That the greater the truth, the worse The affair got wind most rapidly. the libel !


WANTED--Authors of all-work, to job for the scason,

No matter which party, so faithful to neither :Good hacks, who, if posed for a rhyme or a reason,

Can manage, like to do without either. If in gaol, all the better for out-o'-door topics ;

Your gaol is for travellers a charming retreat ; They can take a day's rule for a trip to the Tropics,

And sail round the world, at their ease, in the Fleet. For Dramatists, too, the most useful of schools

They may study high life in the King's Bench community : Aristotle could scarce keep them more within rules,

And of place they're at least taught to stick to the unity. Any lady or gentleman come to an age

To have good 'Reminiscences' (threescore, or higher), Will meet with encouragement-so much per page,

And the spelling and grammar both found by the buyer. No matter with what their remembrance is stocked,

So they'll only remember the quantum desired ;Enough to fill handsomely Two Volumes, oct.,

Price twenty-four shillings, is all that's required. They may treat us, like Kelly, with old jeux-d'esprits,

Like Reynolds, may boast of each mountebank frolic, Or kindly inforın us, like Madame Genlis,

That gingerbread cakes always give them the colic. There's nothing at present so popular growing

As your Autobiographers---fortunate elves, Who manage to know all the best people going,

Without having ever been heard of themselves ! Wanted, also, a new stock of Pamphlets on Corn,

By Farmers' and 'Landholders'—(gemmen, whose lands Enclosed all in bow-pots, their attics adorn,

Or whose share of the soil may be seen on their hands). No-Popery Sermons, in ever so dull a vein,

Sure of a market;- should they, too, who pen 'em, Be renegade Papists, like Murtagh O'S-ll-v-n,

Something extra allowed for the additional venom. Funds, Physic, Corn, Poetry, Boxing, Romance,

All excellent subjects for turniug a penny;To write upon all is an author's sole chance

For attaining, at last, the least knowledge of any.


1 This lady, in her Memoirs, also favours us with her; always desiring that the pills should with the address of those apothecaries who have

be ordered 'comme pour elle.'

? A gentleman who distinguished himself by from time to time given her pills that agreed his evidence before the Irish Committees.

Nine times out of ten, if his title be good,

His matter within of small consequence is ;-
Let him only write fine, and, if not understood,

Why,—that's the concern of the reader, not his
N.B.-A learned Essay, now printing, to show

That Horace (as clearly as words could express it)
Was for taxing the Fundholders, ages ago,

When he wrote thus—' Quodcunque in Fund is, assess it.'


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With a laughtereven more fierce and wild

Than their funeral howling, answered I HEARD, as I lay, a wailing sound,

He is dead-he is dead, the rumour

But the cry still pierced my prison gate, And I raised my chain, and turned me

And again I asked, “What scourge round,

gone? And asked, through the dungeon. Is it he-that Chief, so coldly great, window, Who?

Whom Fame unwillingly shines

uponI saw my livid tormentors pass,

Whose name is one of the ill-omened Their grief 'twas bliss to hear and see !

words For never came joy to them, alas,

They link with hate on his native That didn't bring deadly bane to me.

plains ; Eager I looked through the mist of And why ?—they lent him hearts and night,

swords, And asked, "What foe of my race

And he gave, in return, scoffs and hath died ?

chains ! Is it he-that Doubter of law and right, Is it he? is it he?' I loud inquired, Whom nothing but wrong could e'er When, hark--there sounded a royal decide

knell ;

And I knew what spirit had just expired, Who, long as he sees but wealth to win,

And, slave as I was, my triumph fell. Hath never yet felt a qualm of doubt What suitors for justice he'd keep in, He had pledged a hate unto me and Or what suitors for freedom he'd shut mine, out

He had left to the future nor hope

nor choice, •Who, a clog for ever on Truth's ad- But sealed that hate with a name divance,

vine, Stitles her (like the Old Man of the

And he now was dead, and I couldn't Sea

rejoice! Round Sinbad's neck?), nor leaves a chance

He had fanned afresh the burning brands Of shaking him off-is't he? is't he? Of a bigotry waxing cold and dim;

He had armed anew my torturers' Ghastly my grim tormentors smiled, hands, And thrusting me back to my den of And them did I curse-but sighed for woe,

him. 1 According to the common reading, 'Quod- Old Man of the Sea, and are the first who ever cunque infundis, acescit.'

escaped strangling by his malicious tricks.'2 **You fell,' said they, ' into the hands of the Story of Sinbad.



For his was the error of head, not A prince without pride, a man without heart,

guile, And-oh, how beyond the ambushed To the last unchanging, warm, sinfoe,

cere, Who to enmity adds the traitor's For worth he had ever a hand and part,

smile, And.carries a smile, with a curse be. And for misery ever his purse and low!

tear. If ever a heart made bright amends Touched to the heart by that solemn For the fatal fault of an erring toll, head

I calmly sunk in my chains again ; Go, learn his fame from the lips of While, still as I said, 'Heaven rest his friends,

soul !' In the orphan's tear be his glory My mates of the dungeon sighed, read.

Amen !'

'I Never give a kiss,' says Prue,

'To naughty man, for I abhor it.' She will not give a kiss 'tis true,

She'll take one though, and thank you for it.

To no one Muse does she her glance incline,
But has an eye at once to all the nine.


COME, come,' said Tom's father, at your time of life,

There's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake-
It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife.'--

"Why so it is, father,—whose wife shall I take ?

LIKE a snuffers this loving old dame,

By a destiny grievous enough,
Though so oft she has snapped at the flame,

Hath never caught more than the snuff.

Of all speculations the market holds forth,

The best that I know, for a lover of pelf,
Is to buy

up, at the price he is worth,
And then sell him at that which he gets on himself.


OF all the men one meets about

There's none like Jack, he's everywhere, At church-park-auction--dinner-rout,

Go where and when you will he's there. Try the world's end; he's at your back,

Meets you, like Eurus, in the east:
You're called upon for—'How do, Jack?'

One hundred times a day at least.
A friend of his, one evening, said,

As home he took his pensive way-
Upon my soul, I fear Jack's dead,
I've seen him but three times to-day!'

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IF ever you've seen a gay party

Relieved from the presence of Ned-
How instantly joyous and hearty

They've grown when tlie damper was fled-
You may guess what a gay piece of work,

What delight to champagne it must be
To get rid of its bore of a cork,

And come sparkling to you, love, and me.

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