men striking for bear, wen they ort to hav bean handin warter to won another. I felt my deuty to argy the pint, which I trust will be apruved, and wile we were cussin and discussin the fire got a hed that defide all our unitted pours to subdo. To confess the fax, the fire inguns ware all lokt up in a stabble with a shy key that had lost itself the day before, and was not to be had wen we wantid to lay hands on it. Not that we could have wurked the inguns if they had faverd with their presens, for want of hands. Evvery boddy had run so offen at the allarm bell that they got noboddy to go in there steed. It was an hawful site; the devowring ellemint swallerd won thing after another as sune as cotched, and rushed along roring with friteful violins. Were the finger of Providins is the hand as does we must not arrange it, but as the him says, "we must submit and humbel Bee." Heavin direx the winds, and not us. As it blue towards the sow the piggry sune cotchd, and that cotchd the foul housis, and then the barn cotchd with all the straw, and the granery cotched next, witch it wood not have dun if we had puld down the Cow Hous that stud between. That was all the cotching, excep the hay-stax, from Jenkins runnin about with a flamin tale to his smoak-frock. At last, by a blessin, when there was no moor to burn it was got under and squentched itself, prays be given without loss of lif or lim. Another comfit is all bein inshured in the Sun, enuff to kiver it; and I shud hop they will not refus to make gud on the ground that it was dun wilful by our hone ax and deeds. But fire officis are sumtimes verry unlibberal, and will ketch hold of a burning straw, and if fax were put on their oths I couldn't deni a bundil of rags, matchis, candel ends, and other combustibils pokt into the faggits, and then litin up with my hone hand. Tim will sho. In the meenwhile I am consienshusly easy, it was dun for the best, though turned out for the wust, and am gratifid to reflect that I hav omitted nothin, but have scruppleusly fulfild evvery particler of yure honner's instruxions, and in hap of approval of the saim, await the faver of furthir commands, and am,

Honnerd Sur Jacob,

Your humbel, faithful, and obedient Servint,
ROGER DAVIS.

A TALE OF A TRUMPET.

“Old woman, old woman, will you go a-shearing?
Speak a little louder, for I'm very hard of hearing."

Of all old women hard of hearing,

OLD BALLAD

The deafest, sure, was Dame Eleanor Spearing!
On her head it is true,

Two flaps there grew,

That served for a pair of gold rings to go through, But for any purpose of ears in a parley, They heard no more than ears of barley.

No hint was needed from D. E. F.

You saw in her face that the woman was deaf:
From her twisted mouth to her eyes so peery
Each queer feature ask'd a query;

A look that said in a silent way,

"Who? and What? and How? and Eh?
I'd give my ears to know what you say!"

And well she might! for each auricular
Was deaf as a post-and that post in particular
That stands at the corner of Dyott Street now,
And never hears a word of a row!

Ears that might serve her now and then

As extempore racks for an idle pen;

Or to hang with hoops from jewellers' shops
With coral, ruby, or garnet drops;

Or, provided the owner so inclined,

Ears to stick a blister behind ;
But as for hearing wisdom, or wit,
Falsehood, or folly, or tell-tale-tit,
Or politics, whether of Fox or Pitt,
Sermon, lecture, or musical bit,
Harp, piano, fiddle, or kit,

They might as well, for any such wish,

Have been butter'd, done brown, and laid in a dish!

She was deaf as a post,-as said before-
And as deaf as twenty similes more,
Including the adder, that deafest of snakes,
Which never hears the coil it makes.

She was deaf as a house-which modern tricks
Of language would call as deaf as bricks-
For her all human kind were dumb,
Her drum, indeed, was so muffled a drum,
That none could get a sound to come,
Unless the Devil who had Two Sticks!
She was deaf as a stone-say one of the stones
Demosthenes sucked to improve his tones;
And surely deafness no further could reach
Than to be in his mouth without hearing his speech!

She was deaf as a nut-for nuts, no doubt,
Are deaf to the grub that's hollowing out—
As deaf, alas! as the dead and forgotten-
(Gray has noticed the waste of breath,
In addressing the "dull, cold ear of death"),
Or the Felon's ear that was stuff'd with Cotton-
Or Charles the First, in statue quo;

Or the still-born figures of Madame Tussaud,
With their eyes of glass, and their hair of flax,
That only stare whatever you "ax,"

For their ears, you know, are nothing but wax.

She was deaf as the ducks that swam in the pond, And wouldn't listen to Mrs. Bond,—

As deaf as any Frenchman appears,

When he puts his shoulders into his ears;
And-whatever the citizen tells his son-
As deaf as Gog and Magog at one!
Or, still to be a simile-seeker,

As deaf as dogs'-ears to Enfield's Speaker!

She was deaf as any tradesman's dummy,
Or as Pharaoh's mother's mother's mummy;
Whose organs, for fear of our modern sceptics,
Were plugg'd with gums and antiseptics.

She was deaf as a nail-that you cannot hammer
A meaning into, for all your clamor-
There never was such a deaf old Gammer!
So formed to worry

Both Lindley and Murray,

By having no ear for Music or Grammar!

Deaf to sounds, as a ship out of soundings,
Deaf to verbs, and all their compoundings,
Adjective, noun, and adverb, and particle,
Deaf to even the definite article—
No verbal message was worth a pin,
Though you hired an earwig to carry it in!

In short, she was twice as deaf as Deaf Burke,
Or all the Deafness in Yearsley's Work,
Who in spite of his skill in hardness of hearing,
Boring, blasting, and pioneering,

To give the dunny organ a clearing,

Could never have cured Dame Eleanor Spearing.

Of course the loss was a great privation,
For one of her sex-whatever her station-
And none the less that the Dame had a turn
For making all families one concern,
And learning whatever there was to learn
In the prattling tattling Village of Tringham-

As who wore silk? and who wore gingham?
And what the Atkins's shop might bring 'em?
How the Smiths contrived to live? and whether
The fourteen Murphys all pigg'd together?

The wages per week of the Weavers and Skinners,
And what they boil'd for their Sunday dinners?
What plates the Bugsbys had on the shelf,
Crockery, china, wooden, or delf?

And if the parlor of Mrs. O'Grady

Had a wicked French print, or Death and the Lady? Did Snip and his wife continue to jangle?

Had Mrs. Wilkinson sold her mangle?

What liquor was drunk by Jones and Brown?
And the weekly score they ran up at the Crown?

If the Cobbler could read, and believed in the Pope?
And how the Grubbs were off for soap?

If the Snobbs had furnished their room up-stairs,
And how they managed for tables and chairs,
Beds, and other household affairs,

Iron, wooden, and Staffordshire wares;

And if they could muster a whole pair of bellows?

In fact, she had much of the spirit that lies
Perdu in a notable set of Paul Prys,

By courtesy called Statistical Fellows―

A prying, spying, inquisitive clan,

Who have gone upon much of the self-same plan,
Jotting the Laboring Class's riches;

And after poking in pot and pan,

And routing garments in want of stitches,

Have ascertained that a working man

Wears a pair and a quarter of average breeches!

But this, alas! from her loss of hearing,
Was all a sealed book to Dame Eleanor Spearing;
And often her tears would rise to their founts-
Supposing a little scandal at play

"Twixt Mrs. O'Fie and Mrs. Au Fait

That she couldn't audit the Gossips' accounts.