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Another year has took its flight,
Pass'd like a shadow or a dream,
Like as a transcient gleam of light,
Or bubble floating on the stream.

So year on year successive glides,

And soon compleats the age of man, Thro' fourscore years it swiftly slides, And finishes life's narrow span.

But oft, in life's uncertain day,
What numbers fall in youthful bloom!
Snatch'd by a sudden stroke away,
And sink into the dreary tomb.

How many, in life's early hour,

Just ope their eyes, and see the light; And soon, by death's resistless power, Are clos'd in everlasting night. Since life's uncertain, death so sure, Why then does man his time employ In gaining pleasures insecure,

And blast his hopes of future joy?

When well he knows that soon he must
Resign his riches and his care,
His body mingle with the dust,

And leave behind all he holds dear.

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HALLO? what?-where?-what can it be

That strikes up so deliciously?
I never in my life-what? no!
That little tin box playing so?
It really seemed as if a sprite,
Had struck among us, swift and light,
And come from some minuter star,
To treat us with his pearl guitar.

Hark! it scarcely ends the strain,
But it gives it o'er again,
Lovely thing!-and runs along,
Just as if it knew the song,
Touching out,smooth,clear and small,
Harmony, and shake, and all,
Now upon the treble lingering,
Dancing now as if 'twere fingering,
And at last, upon the close
Coming with genteel repose.

O full of sweetness, crispness, ease, Compound of lovely smalluesses, Accomplished trifle,-tell us what To call thee, and disgrace thee not, Worlds of fancies come about us, Thrill within, and glance without us. Now we think that there must be In thee some humanity,* Such a taste composed and fine Smiles along that touch of thine. Now we call thee heavenly rain, For thy fresh continued strain! Now a hail, that on the ground Splits into light leaps of sound! Now the concert, neat and nice, Of a pigmy paradise ;

Sprinkles then from singing fountains; Fairies heard on tops of mountains; Nightingales endued with art, Caught in listening to MOZART: Stars that make a distant tinkling, While their happy eyes are twinkling; Sounds for scattered rills to flow to; Music for the flowers to grow to!

O thou sweet and sudden pleasure,
Dropping in ihe lap of leisure,
Essence of harmonious joy,
Epithet-exhausting toy,

Well may lovely hands and eyes
Start at thee in sweet surprise;
Nor will we consent to see
In thee mere machinery,
But recur to the great springs
Of divine and human things,
And acknowledge thee a lesson
For despondence to lay stress on,
Waiting with a placid sorrow
What may come from heaven to mor-
row,

And the music hoped at last,
When this jarring life is past.

Come then for another strain,
We must have thee o'er again

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THE

TICKLER MAGAZINE.

No. 3. VOL. III.] LONDON, THURSDAY, MARCH 1, 1821.

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Anecdotes.

was

GHOSTS. When Dr. Johnson rallied for his faith in Ghosts, he used to call over the names of the various eminent characters, who at different periods had been of his opinion: among these he generally mentioned Dr. Fowler, Bishop of Gloucester, in the early part of the eighteenth century. Of that prelate the following conversation with Judge Powell is recorded on good authority: --- "Since I saw you," said the Judge, "I have had ocular demonstration of the existence of nocturnal apparitions." "I am glad, Mr. Justice, you are become a convert to truth: but do you say actual ocular demonstration? Pray let me know the particulars of the story at large." "My Lord, I will. It was--let me see, last Thursday night, between the hours of eleven and twelve, but nearer the latter than the former, as I lay sleeping in my bed, I was suddenly awakened by an uncommon noise, and heard something coming up stairs and stalking directly towards my room : the door flying open, I drew back my curtain, and saw a faint glimmering light enter my chamber." "Of a blue colour, no doubt." "The light was of a pale blue, my Lord; and followed by a tall meagre personage, his locks hoary with age, and clothed in a long, loose gown; a leathern girdle was about his loins; his beard thick and grisly; a large fur cap on his head, and a long staff on his hand.Struck with astonishment, I remained for some time motionless and silent: the figure advanced, staring me full in the face. I then said, whence and what art thou? The following was the answer I received:---" I am watchman of the Night, an't please your Honour, and made bold to come up stairs to inform

[PRICE 6d

the family of their street-door being left open and that if it was not soon shut, they would probably be robbed before morning." Dr. Fowler seized his hat and departed!

"Are

AURUNGZEBE, who died Emperor of the Moguls in 1707, upon his recovery from a long illness, employed more of his time and attention upon the affairs of government than his weakness would permit. One of his Ministers took occasion to represent to him the danger of this excessive fatigue, and the consequences which might result from it. Aurungzebe darted a long full of contempt and indignation at him; and, turning round to the other courtiers present, he thus magnanimously addressed himself to them: there not (said he) circumstances in which a king ought to hazard his life, nay to perish sword in hand, if it is necessary, for the defence of his country? There are; and yet this worthless flatterer would not have me to sacrifice my repose to the welfare of my subjects. Can he suppose me ignorant, that the divinity seated me upon the throne purposely for the felicity of the many millions of my fellow-creatures, who were to be subjected to my authority? No, no, Aurungzebe will never forget the saying of Sadi, Kings, resign your royalty, or reign by yourselves. grandeur and prosperity already spread so many snares for us: unhappy that us into we are! every thing sinks effeminacy; woman by her caresses, And shall pleasure by its attractions. Ministers at the same time exalt their perfidious voice, in order to combat the already feeble tottering virtue of Kings, and to ruin them by fatal counsels?" Such were the godlike sentiments of a sovereign, who ruled over a people we

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Alas!

are accustomed to spurn at as slaves. Where shall we find a parallel to them in the annals of England - that happy country, where liberty, they tell us, and all her heaven-born attendants, have fixed their abode?

--4

A few

in about a month after he had finished this Tail Piece.

A very

absent Divine, finding his sight begin to fail, purchased a pair of speclacles, and on the first day of using them preached for a brother Clergyman, but was observed to have them at the top of his forehead during the whole sermon. "So you have at last taken to spectacles, Doctor," said a friend after the service. "Yes (returned the unconscious absentee) I found I could not do without them, and I wonder now I never used them till to-day!"

Bon Mots.

CHARLES BANNISTER being in company, and the conversation turning upon the subject of dreams, a person who seemed to put a great faith in them observed, that something serious was likely to befal himself, for that the night before he had dreamt of lice. Bannister replied, that this was not at all wonderful, as people generally dreamed at night of what had been "running in their heads the day before."

HOGARTH's LAST WORK.. months before Hogarth was seized with the malady which deprived society of one of its brightest ornaments, he proposed to his matchless pencil the work he has entitled the "Tail Piece." The first idea of this picture is said to have been started in company while the convivial glass was circulated round his own table. "My next undertaking," said Hogarth, "shall be the end of all things." "If that is the case," replied his friends, your business will be finished, for there will be an end of the painter.""There will be so," answered Hogarth, sighing heavily; "and therefore the sooner my work is done, the better."-Accordingly he began the next day, and continued his design with a diligence that seemed to indicate an apprehension he should not live to complete it. This, however, he did, and in the most ingenious manner, by grouping every thing that could denote the end of all things---a broken bottle; an old broom worn to the stump; the butt-end of an old musket; a cracked bell; a bow unstrung: a crown tumbled in pieces; towers in ruins; the sign-post of a tavern called the World's End, falling down; the moon in her wane; the map of the globe burning; a gibbet falling, the body gone, and the chains which held it dropping down; Phoebus and his horses lying dead in the clouds; a vessel wrecked; Time, with his glass and scythe broken; a tobacco-pipe, with the last whiff of smoke going out; a play-book opened, with exeunt omnes stamped in the corner; an empty purse; and a statute of bankruptcy taken out against Nature. "So far so good," said Hogarth, on reviewing his performance; "nothing remains but this;" taking his pencil, and sketching the resemblance of a painter's palette broken. "Finis!" he then exclaimed, "the deed is done; all is over." It is a very remarkable fact, and not generally known, that Hogarth never took the palette in his hand, and that he died THE retort courteous was fully expe

CICERO was once at dinner in com-
pany
with Fabia Dolabella, an ancient
lady, who, speaking of her age, said,
"She was but thirty years old." One
who sat by Cicero whispered in his ear,
"She talks of thirty years; beyond all
question, she must be considerably
"Nay," replied Cicero, loud
enough to be heard, "I must believe
her, for I have heard her say the same
thing these twenty years."

more."

THE accomplished Lucius Cary, Lord Falkland, in the reign of Charles I. was admitted very young a member of the House of Commons, where he distinguished himself greatly by his eloquence. But being proposed as a member of a committee, he was opposed by some of the old senators, who observed, that he had not yet sown his wild oats. To this he answered, "Then it will be best to sow them here, where there are so many geese to pick them up."

rienced by the celebrated counsellor Jack Lee, on the northern circuit; for, being engaged in cross-examining one Mary Pritchard, of Barnsley, he began with, "Well, Mary; if I may credit what I hear, I may venture to address you by the name of Black Moll."--"Faith may you, maister lawyer," said she; "for I am always called so by the blackguards."

A very ignorant but conceited young fellow, going into a bookseller's shop, with a relation, and perceiving him look into a small book and smile, asked him what there was in that piece to attract his attention? "Why," answered the other, "this book is dedicated to you, cousin Jack." "Is it so? Is it so?" said he, pray, let me see it; for I never knew before that I had that honour done me." Upon which, taking the book into his hand, he found it to be Perkins's Catechism, dedicated to all ignorant persons."

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ALPHONSO, King of Naples, sent a Moor, who had been his captive a long time, to Barbary, with a considerable sum of money to buy horses, and to return by such a time. Now there was about the king a kind of buffoon or jester, who had a table-book or journal, wherein he used to register any absurdity, or impertinence, or merry passage that happened at court. The day the Moor was dispatched for Barbary, this jester waiting upon the king at supper, the king called for his journal, and asked him what he had observed that day? Thereupon he produced his table-book, and amongst other things he read, how Alphonso, king of Naples, had sent Beltram the Moor, who had been a long time his prisoner, to Morocco, his own country, with so many thousand crowns, to buy horses. The king asked him, why he had inserted that? "Because," said he, "I think he will never come back to be a prisoner again, and so you have lost both man and money." '---" But if he do come back, then your jest is marr'd," said the king. "No, Sir, (replied the other,) "for if he returns I will blot out your name, and put him in for a fool."

Burlesque.

NEW PUBLICATIONS.

1st of April.

-This day is published, price 4d. dedicated (without permission) to Mr. Logier,

A Treatise on the Art of Playing that elegant Instrument, the Marrow-Bone and Cleaver; wherein the divine science is so simply explained, that persons with barbarous or even idiotic intellects may soon become adepts, especially as the work treats largely on the diatonic, chromatic, and enharmonic principles of the instrument, so elaborately set forth by Kircher, Mersennus, Kernberger, and other eminent writers on the subject.

The work is embellished with a plate finely engraved by an eminent artist in the buildings late the Mona Marble Works, representing a new-invented chiroplast for guiding the wrists of the performers.

Several fine-toned instruments for sale or hire.

Marrow-bones, exceeding 6lb. weight, bought, sold, or exchanged.

and the

A band, as spruce as white flannel and blue serge can make them, may be engaged at an hour's notice, to attend quadrille parties and routs; celebrated Newgate-market Band, so remarkable for noise, may be engaged for electioneering purposes.

The Treatise to be bad at the Musical Joint-Stock Company's New Rooms; and the Bands engaged by application at the Three Jolly Butchers, Whitechapel.

GOG AND MAGOG.

In the press, and shortly will be published,

A Long but Entire New History of the Births, Lives, Exploits, Adventures, and Deaths of those two tremendous Civic Giants, Gog and Magog, whose effigies have for very many ages adorned the Guildhall of the City of London. The whole of the Anecdotes collected, connected, arranged, and edited, by Sir Timothy Tallboy, Knt.

The Work will be printed on royal elephant paper, with 20-line pica, cast for this work only at the Great A Foundry; and will be adorned with correct

portraits finely engraved from the original whole length miniatures in the City Gallery, presented by a late worthy Alderman, with many other folding-plates, illustrative of the work, ineluding autographs of the heroes' great grand-father; all of which will be worked off on Foudrinier and Co.'s patent sheet paper, and will be ready for delivery on the longest day, by Messrs. Longmen and Co. Long Row, Long Ditch.

N. B. The Work will be sent to any part of the United Kingdom, by the long coaches, free of expence.

NEW NOVEL.

This day is published, price Eight-pence, in sheets,

Twelve Hours at Betty Cumming's, Dyot-street, St. Giles's. By a Nocturnal Inmate. To be had at the Quire Ballad Office, Seven Dials.

"We earnestly recommend the perusal of these distressing pages to that half of the world who know not how the other half live. It may tend to make them grateful for the coarsest food, thankful for the hardest bed, acknowledge the comforts of clothing, and the luxury of a sea-coal fire.---Although we reside in the neighborhood, we could not, without having read this interesting work, have conceived that such an accumulation of woe could congregate under the same roof. We shall only add our firm belief, that the work is not a puff from the landlady, as was strongly suspected to be the case with a similar work that lately detailed the adventures of a month passed in a celebrated BondStreet Hotel.---St. Giles's Review.

SCRAPIANA.

Lord Byron swam across the Hellespont, from Sestos to Abydos, to ascertain the practicability of Leander's story; and he informs his readers, that this feat was performed by himself and a Mr. Ekınhead, on the 10th of May, 1810. The water, he says, was so extremely cold, from the melting of the mountain snow, that he got an ague.]

Once, in the month of dark December, Leander he was nightly wont (All, I'm sure, the tale remember)

To cross thy stream, broad Hellespont.

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Lately, at St. Peter's Cheap, Mr. Dearlove, to Miss Truelove.

On Sunday morning, at Cripplegatechurch, Mr. Heavysides, to Miss Sarah Smallbones.

At St. George's, Hanover-square, Dr. Dryasdust, to Miss Drinkwater.

At St. Andrew's Undershaft, Mr. Fogo, to the widow Hogo.

On Thursday, Mr. Munday, of Fridaystreet, to Miss Moon, eldest daughter to Mr. Moon, of the Seven Stars, Sun Street.

Yesterday, at Barking Church, Mr. Pointer, of Dog-row, to Miss Mew, of Cat-andMutton Fields, Hackney.

Lately, at Bloomsbury Church, Mr. Evergreen, of Blossom-street, to Miss Rose, of Spring-gardens.

On Monday last, Mr. Tame, of Milkstreet, to Miss Wild, of the Bear-gardens. The same day, Mr. Mist, of Snow-rents, to Miss Fog, of Sun-fields.

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