Skill so prodigious Bobby too admired,
And, home returning, of the sage inquired,
How these same oysters came into his head.
"Psha! my dear Bob, the thing was plain-
"Sure that can ne'er distress thy brain?

"I saw the shells lie underneath the bed."

So wise by such a lesson grown,
Next day Bob ventured forth alone,

And to the self-same sufferer paid his court;
But soon, with haste and wonder out of breath,
Return'd the stripling minister of death,

And to his master made this dread report :—

"Why, sir, we ne'er can keep this patient under,
"For such a man I never came across;
"The fellow must be dying-and no wonder,
"For, curse me, if he hasn't eat a horse."

"A horse!" the elder man of physic cried,
(As if he meant his pupil to deride)-
"How came so wild a notion in your head?"

"How! think not in my duty I was idle; "Like you, I took a peep beneath the bed, "And there I saw a Saddle and a Bridle!"

THE DRUNKEN SAILORS.

A parson once, of Methodistic race,

With band new stiffen'd, and with lengthen'd face,
In rostrum mounted high above the rest,

In long-drawn tones, his friends below address'd;
And while he made the gospel roof to roar,
Three drunken sailors reel'd in at the door.

His reverence twigg'd them-baited fresh his trap-
"New converts from old Nick and Co. to nap !"
The poor pew-opener, too, a grave old woman,
Poor, did I say?-oh! how I wrong'd the race-
His honour told me she was rich-ah, rich in grace.

This poor pew-opener, though thinking right,
As soon as Neptune's sons appeared in sight,
With a preface of three dismal groans composed,
Her lips thus open'd, and her mind disclosed :-
"Ye vicked men, conceived and born in sin,
"The gospel gates are open-enter in ;

"Come and be saved, ye fallen sons of Adam !"—
At which they all roar'd out-" Oh, de, madam,
"Your jawing tackle 's at its proper pitch,
"Come out, you d- -d old swab-faced b--h!
"Go hang yourself, you d-d old cat--
"What humbug rig is this that now you're at ?"

Words like these, utter'd in a sailor's note,

Soon reach'd the man in black, who preach'd by rote;
And he though a dissenter, is what I would remark,
Being no novice, beckon'd to his clerk,

Told the amen-man what to say and do--
Immediately he leaves his pew,

Goes to the sailors to do as he was bid;

Out hauls his 'bacco-box, with "De, take a quid! "What cheer, my thundering bucks! how are ye all? "Come in, my lads, and give your sins an over-haul!" The sailors roll'd their quids, and turn'd their eyes, And view'd their benefactor with surprise;

Swore he was a hearty fellow-"Dn their souls ;"
So in they staggering went, cheek by jowl,
Found a snug berth, and stow'd themselves away,
To hear what Master Blackey had to say.

His reverence preach'd, and groan'd, and preach'd
And, says my story, it was not in vain;

[again!

The plan succeeding, which they had concerted-
They went in sinners, and came out converted.

BREVIS ESSE LABORO.

On Folly's lips eternal tattlings dwell;
Wisdom speaks little, but that little well:
So lengthening shades the sun's decline betray,
But shorter shadows mark meridian day.

THE DRUNKARD'S SOLILOQUY.

Well, here I am, just come out of the pub-pub-public (hiccup) house; I've only drank nine glasses of brandy and water, and I am as drunk as a p-p-parson. Talking of a parson, reminds me of the devil; and talking of the devil, reminds me of my wife-(hiccup)—for she'll kick up a devil of a row. Well, if she blows me up, why I must blow her up-no, I won't, for talking of blowing up, reminds me of raising the wind; so I'll tell her I have been at half price to the play-(hiccup) then she'll say, to what part; and if I say, to the boxes, she'll swear I had an intrigue or I would not have gone there; then I won't say to the boxes, I'll say to the pit; no, egad if I say to the pit, she'll wish me in the bottomless pit, and as I don't like such wit, I'll tell her I was in the gallery; aye, the gallery, there's the rub-(hiccup) no, it is not the rub, for she'll give me a rub there, and say, I should not have gone into the gallery if I respected the pride of her family. Ha, ha, ha! if her father wasn't a tripe man; he sold cat's meat(calling) "Cat's meat! cat's meat!" No, no, I'll go home and tell her I'm sober--(hiccup)—there's nothing like telling truth and shaming the devil! I'll tell her the truth, and nothing but the truth. Oh Lord, oh Lord! oh, here's a post. What a delicate constitution I have, I really can't touch spirits: why, nine glasses of brandy and water, that is nine shillings, and ten pipes, that's ten shillings and nine pence, and two pence the waiter, is twelve shillings and a penny-that's rightWell, this small quantity of liquor has made me sick, but I defy the devil to make me drunk. I'm a complete philosopher, for when I've had enough, I always know it; and no one can beat me at calculation if I sit up till midnight, for I have always cool reason on my side, and I can-(hiccup)-Hollo, what the devil are you? speak, or I'll knock you down; (strikes) who are you speak, or I'll—(hiccup)—I'll, I'll—(goes up to a pump) Why, zounds, it's a pump-if it isn't, may I be pumped upon! I've been frightened by a pump; ha, ha! Well, if ever a sober man was more deceived, may I h

hanged! But I'll go home and go to bed, and I'll say to my wife- (hiccup)-I wish I could get a drop of something for the hiccups, and she'll say, What's o'clock you brute?' And I'll look at my watch and I'll say(hiccup) I can't see, and if she blows me up I'll singHere am I, a jolly dog,

As sober as can be ;

And there's my wife, a surly hog,
She won't be kind to me.

So I will sing, and dance, and drink,
Nor care a pin for sorrow;

Although upon my soul

think,

Tol de rol, &c.

My head will ache to-morrow.

THE FORSAKEN.

It was a winter's evening, and fast came down the snow, And keenly o'er the wide heath the searching blast did blow,

When a damsel all forlorn, quite bewildered on her way,
Press'd her baby to her bosom, and sadly thus did say;
66 Oh, cruel was my father to shut his door on me,
And cruel was my mother who such a sight could see,
And cruel is this wintry wind that chills my heart with
cold,

But crueler than all, the lad that left my love for gold.
Hush, hush! my lovely baby, and warm thee in my breast
Ah! little thinks thy father how sadly we're distressed;
For, cruel as he is, did he know but how we fare,
He'd shield us in his arms from this bitter piercing air.
Cold, cold, my dearest jewel! thy little life is gone,
Oh, let my tears revive thee, so warm that trickle down.
My tears that gush so warm, oh, they freeze before
they fall!
[all."
Ah wretched, wretched mother! thou art now bereft of
Then down she sank despairing, upon the drifted snow,
And,wrung with killing anguish, lamented loud her woe.
She kissed her baby's pale lips, and laid it by her side,
Then raised her eyes to Heav'n, and bowed her head,
and died.

TO CUPID.

Of all the plagues of mortal life-
Ambition's curse, contention's strife,
A jealous heart, a scolding wife-
Ör all together,-

Compared with thee, O Cupid Knight,
Are light as feather.

I'm not a brainsick bard, to raise
A fracas 'bout thy wily ways;
Sigh for a lady's eyes, and praise,
Her beauteous form;

Then breathe a thousand piteous lays,
To keep love warm.

But this I'll swear :-if e'er poor wight
Was plagued and cozen'd by thy spite,
Kept wide awake a winter's night,
To sigh for love,

These three last weeks thou'st crack'd me quite,

I swear by Jove.

The time hath been, when I could stray

In loving June, or flow'ry May,

And meet fine ladies on my way,

With heart full light,

Nor heed them farther on the way,
Than out o' sight.

But now in every lass's eyes

I see such witching pictures rise;
Such darts point out, and straitway rise
Into my soul,

As reason's cautious power defies,
And self-control.

Now hear, thou peacc-destroying knave!
Go make some fond-sick youth thy slave,
Or in some alderman's fat turtle lave,
But fly from me;

For hence, I swear by all that's grave,
Love-proof I'll be.