And then its boots-how tight they were—
It's mincing pace 'twas pain to see;
In short its figure and its air,

Told me a DANDY it must be!
It did not like to be confin'd-
At three weeks end it tripp'd away,
And in its draw'r this very day,
Its washing-bill* I chane'd to find.
Read it-and then you must allow.
That men do curious creatures grow.
And that they're vastly alter'd now,
From what they were some years ago.
TABITHA OLDMODE..

A Dandy's Washing-Bill.

Fourteen false collars Six false shirt frills Seventeen cravats Two pair of stays

Trifles.

THE DANDY.

My lodger's gone-with half an hour to spare, I'll sketch the thing-(though it may make you stare).

That dubious something like a man

A shadow-no athletic youth,

A form so slight, no breeze dar'd fan,
For fear of spoiling it, forsooth!
Like some slim pine, it soar'd erect,

Nor look'd aside to north or south;
How could it, whilst its throat and mouth,
With heavy bandages were deck'd?
Its well starch'd collar stood upright,

Concealing all but nose and eyes;
Its spruce cravat was ty'd so tight.
Nought could it look at but the skies!
I fear'd the puny thing would choke,
But fashion never suffers pain-
It sigh'd-then smil'd, as if in joke--
And sigh'd-and smil'd-and sigh'd again.
Its coat-I think 'twas meant for one,

Was doubtless from some foreign land;
For skirts and collar it had none,

And only show'd a narrow band.
Between the shoulders there were plac'd
Two buttons, to denote a waist;
And when its stays were tightly lac'd,
"Twas slim indeed-this thing of taste!

In utimicry of other bucks,

orted in fine white Russia ducks.

Eleven pair of false wristbands
Five pair of half cotton hose, without feet
Four pair of half silk hose, without feet
Four pair of Russia-duck trousers
One watch ribbon

0 12

S. D.

N.B. Mind to take the whalebone out of the stays starch the cravats as still as possiblethe collars not quite so stiff. Mind not to tear the hole on the shoulder of the shirt larger-it need not be mended, as it is not seen when it is on. DD

ON A RECENT ASSERTION.

"Shall I give him the lie direct, or the lie polite?"

The Lord Mayor in ire, says, by sword and be fire,

The Reformers intended the City to take:-
Is his Lordship, then, a downright liar;
Or does he only lie-under a mistake?

A PROPER TITLE.

Oh, blessed Lord Mayor-oh, wonderful man!
Preserving our lives and our quiet;
Who, dreaming, discovered the horrible plan,
For involving fam'd London in riot.

This wonderful Muyor from his post will ne`er wince;

Then let's hope that the Tories will please To order their Servant our high mighty Prince, To create him the Baron of Nipcheese.* Such discoveries should certainly be the precursor Of Fortune, and Titles, and so on;

And then it may hap that this once famous Purser On further discov'ries will go on.

*The present Lord Mayor was formerly a Purser in the Navy.

Translations.

MADRIGAL.

(From the Spanish.)

When stars bedeck the azure sky,

And shine the sparkling gems of night,

Oh, Lady! oft I wish to sigh,

Aud wander near thy chamber light, Whose faintly glowing ray discloses The spot where innocence reposes,

And when the smiling moon-beains play
In silver radiance on thy bower,
In loneliness I pensive stray,

To worship there its fairest flower;
And hope so sweet a rose as thee,
May ever bloom for one like me.

But still thy image is the shrine

Where all my musings fondly dwell; Yet strange, this wayward heart of mine To thee can ne'er its feelings tell; And though 'twould dare a host in fight, It trembles in a Lady's sight.

Then happy be thy hour of rest,
Though hopeless still my breast must swell,
For one, within whose gentle breast

Resides each grace, I love so well;
Though chance my only doom may be
To love and to despair for thee.

Verses.

THE TRIO,

WIT, Love, and Repulation, walk'd
One ev'ning out of Town;

They sung, they laugh'd, they toy'd, they talk'd,
Till night came darkling on,

Love wilful needs wou'd be their guide,]

And smile at loss of day,

On her the kindred pair rely'd,
And lost with her their way.

Damp fell the dew, the wind blew cold,

And bleak the barren moor,

Across they toil'd, when Love grown bold,
Knock'd loud at Labours door.
Awhile within the red-roof'd cot,

They stood and star'd at Care,
But long could not endure the spot;
For Poverty was there.

The Twain propos'd next morn to part,
And travel different ways;

Quoth Love, "I soon shall find a heart ;"
Wit went to look for Praise.

But Reputation, sighing, spoke, ""Tis better we agree,

Though Love may laugh, and Wit may joke, Yet friends take care of me.

Without me Beauty wins no Heart, Without me wit is vain,

If headstrong here with me you part, We ne'er can meet again.

Of me you both shou'd take great care, And shun the rambling plan,

No calling back, my friends, I'll bear,

So keep me while you can."

Love stopt among the village youth,
Expecting to be crown'd,
Enquiring for her brother Truth,

But Truth was never found.

She sought in vain, for Love was blind,

And Hate her guidance crost,

'Tis said, since Truth she cannot find, That Love herself is lost.

THE MOURNFUL HARP.

My harp no more is twin'd with flowers,
The bough on which I leant is rotten;
Yet all the joys that once were ours,

Are far too sweet to be forgotten!

No string will sound to pleasure's touch;
No note awake that speaks of gladness:
Such is my mournful harp, and such

The heart that thou hast doom'd to sadness.

In vain for me the spring bequeaths

The calm, where beauty's wing reposes; In vain for me the summer breatlies

Its blushing flowers and fields of roses. In vain for me the joyful hearth,

The cheeks that glow, the eyes that glisten; In vain the syren voice of mirth;

I heed not-hear not-cannot listen. Will pity to thy breast repair,

When grief o'er error is repenting? Yes! thou, who art as Angel fair, Wilt, as an Angel, be relenting.

And then my harp in extacy

Will sound-'tis always sad without thee;

And bliss wili come again, and I

Will sing in thrilling strains about thee? R. E****.

FOUND IN A CASE CONTAINING A HUMAN SKELETON.

Behold this ruin!-'twas a skull,
Once of ethereal spirit full !

This narrow cell was Life's retreat:-
This space was Thought's mysterious seat!
What beauteous pictures fill'd this spot!
What dreams of pleasure long forgot!
Nor Love, nor Joy, nor Hope, nor Fear,
Has left one trace or record here!
Beneath this mould'ring canopy,
Once shone this bright and busy eye;-
But start not at the dismal void!
If social love that eye employ'd;

VOL. I. No. 11.]

Anecdotes.

MOLIERE. The most celebrated wits of France, in the time of Louis XIV. lived in the greatest unanimity and harmony, and, attracted by a mutual esteem for each other's merit, formed themselves into a friendly society, and oftener than once in a week had a common supper, when the pleasures of the table were the least part of the entertainment, and where the conversation, we doubt not, was far more worthy to be recorded, than that of the seven wise Greeks, related by Plutarch. Moliere, one of the gayest companions of this brilliant company, frequently entertained them at a villa he possessed on the banks of the Seine, near Paris. His worthy guests, in general, were too good judges of pleasure to let intoxication usurp the seat of wit and learning; though Bacchus was always admitted to enliven the spirit of the Muses. This agreeable party, consisting of Peter and Thomas Corneille, Racine, Chapelle, Moliere, Patron, La Fontaine, La Bruyere, and several other respectable writers, being one evening at Moliere's country-house, the host, quite fatigued, was obliged to retire to rest, and leave his post to Chapelle. The wit pushed the champaigne briskly about, and intoxication, unperceived, stole in. They began to talk of morality, and consequently of the futility of the pleasures of this world; and came at last to this conclusion:-that the great object of human life should be, by some renowned action, to acquire immortal fame. From this observation one of the company took occasion Gentlemen, this being the case, since life is so worthless, and fame so desirable, what can be more eligible, more noble, or more glorious, than, by shaking off this load of life, to acquire eternal renown? My advice therefore is, that we should all go together to the Seine, and there heroically plunge in; and thus, dying in that unity with which we have lived, our names and our friendship will be celebrated by all posterity." The vapours of the wine had so far heated their imaginations, and clouded their judgments, that this extravagant proposition appeared highly rational. They prepared, therefore, with great solemnity, to offer this sacrifice to fame. A poor old servant, who was perfectly sober, understanding their design, ran and awaked his master. Moliere presently appeared among them, was immediately acquainted with their intention, and invited to partake of immor

to say,

66

[PRICE 6d.

tality. He thought it would not be prudent to oppose their design directly; but said, "My dear friends, I approve of your intention extremely, and am very ready to enjoy so glorious a death; but by no means at this time; for posterity may insinuate, by its being performed at so late an hour, that it was not the effect of philosophy, but inebriety; and so important an action should be free even from a possibility of reflection: the only wise step, therefore, to be taken, is, that every one repair to his own bed, and that we assemble early in the morning, and then, with the coolness and serenity becoming true philosophers, carry this design into execution." This proposal met with universal approbation, and every one, except Moliere, retired contentedly to bed. The next morning, when these great men had recovered the use of their reason, they shuddered at that rashness which, a few hours before, had appeared so glorious; and acknowledged, that the only road to real fame was, to exert their abilities in the service of literature, instead of rendering their memories detestable by an unthinking and useless act of

suicide.

LOUIS XV. at the age of sixteen, was as deficient in gallantry, as he was ridiculous for too much of it at fifty. He wept when informed of his intended marriage with the young and handsome Infanta of Spain; and nothing was capable of comforting him till he was assured that he was not to live with her for a long time to come. On her arrival in France, the King went as far as Bourg la Reine to meet her. He embraced her without saying a word, and returned to Paris to receive her at the Louvre. There he still maintained profound silence, which caused the young Princess to say, that the King was handsome, but he had nothing more to say than her doli.

FREDERICK 1. of Prussia, standing one day at a window in his palace, perceived that one of his pages took a pinch of snuff from his box which lay on the table. He did not interrupt him, but turning round immediately afterwards, he asked, "Do you like that snuffbox? The page was confounded, and male no reply. The King repeated his question, and the page said, trembling, that he thought it very beautiful. "In that case," rejoined Frederick, "take it, for it is too small for us both."

LORD CHESTERFIELD.-Sir Thomas Robinson spoke French very badly, and English nearly as bad. King George I. spoke little English, and what he did extremely incorrect.

!

After a conference they had held, Lord Chesterfield met the former, and with a look of great concern, attempted to condole with the Baronet on the prevailing report, that there had been a serious misunderstanding between his Majesty and himself. "What do you said the Baronet, with warmth; "Nothing, I do assure you, has transpired between us of this kind, I give you iny word." "Then I am mistaken," said his Lordship with a sarcastic smile, “I had heard that you had a conference with the King this morning."

mean,"

GARRICK and HOGARTH, sitting together at a tavern, mutually lamented the want of a picture of Fielding. "I think," said Garrick, "I could make his face," which he did accordingly. For Heaven's sake hold, David," said Hogarth, "remain as you are for a few minutes." Garrick did so, while Hogarth sketched the outline, which was afterwards finished from their mutual recollection, and this drawing was the original of all the por traits we have at present of the admired author

of Tom Jones.

A SCOTTISH LAWYER.-An Advocate, full of claret, is said to have forgotten for which party, in a particular cause, he had been retained; and, to the unutterable amazement of the agent that had feed him, and the absolute horror of the poor client behind, to have uttered a long and fervent speech exactly in the teeth of the interests he had been hired to defend. Such was the zeal of his eloquence, that no whispered remonstrance from the rear-no tugging at his elbow, could stop him, in medio gurgite dicendi. But just as he was about to sit down, the trembling writer put a slip of paper into his hands, with these plain words, "You have pled for the wrong party;" whereupon with an air of infinite conposure, he resumed the thread of his oration, saying, "Such, my Lord, is the statement you will probably hear from my brother on the opposite side of this cause. I shall now beg leave, in a very few words, to shew your Lordship how utterly untenable are the principles, and how distorted are the facts, upon which this specious statement has proceeded." And so he went once more over the same ground, and did not take his seat till he had most energetically refuted himself from one end of his former pleading to another.

Blunders.

A GASCON once boasted that he had travelled all over the known world,-" Upon my word, Gentlemen," concluded he, "I have been at the very end of the Earth; one step further, and I should have trod upon nothing""

DURING the French Revolution, at the time that Robespierre was beheaded at Paris, a Gascon Officer, in the French Army, thus ex

AN ENGLISH BULL.-Our friend Montgo mery, in his Sheffield Iris, observes:-" The spies and incendiaries, who take the lead at the Reform Meetings, have at length gone too far; and, if the eyes of their dupes and vietims are not now opened, it is doubtful whether they will be opened till they are closed in death."

FATAL WIT.-A bon mot is often productive; of fatal consequences. Theocritus had highly offended King Antigonous, who had but one eye; that Prince promised to pardon the culprit if he would appear before him. With this coudition he refused to comply; but his friends drew him along almost by force, continually repeating, that his life would be safe as soon as he should appear before the eyes of the King. The unfortunate wit, recollecting that the King had but one eye, could not refrain circumstances in which he was placed. from a bon mot, notwithstanding the critical depends on my appearing before the eyes of "Ah!" said he, "if the safety of my life the King, I am undone." This raillery was the cause of his death.

GARRICK'S EYE.--Miss Pope was one evening in the Green-room, commenting on the exce lencies of Garrick, when, amongst other things she said "he had the most wonderful eye imaginable-an eye, to use a vulgar phrase, that would penetrate through a deal board.”— "Ave," cried Wewitzer, "I understand-what we call a gimblet eye!”

LORD MANSFIELD AND A JEW." Mr. Abrahams," said Lord Mansfield, "this is your son, and cannot go in the same bail bond.""He ish not my son, my Lord.” "Why, Abrahams, here are twenty in Court will prove it." "I will shwear, my Lord, he ish_not.” "Take care, Abrahams, or I will send you to the King's Bench." "Now, my Lord, if your Lordship pleases, I will tell you the truth. "Well, I shall be glad to hear the truth from a Jew." "My Lord, I wash in Amsterdam two years and three quarters; when I came home I findsh this lad; now the law obliges