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CABINET OF MOMUS.

NO TRICKS UPON TRAVELLERS.

A TALE.-(PENWARNE.)

A CORNISH Miner, high in wrestling fame,
And Thomas Triggyniggy was his name:

To London city Tom would fain be packing;
In hardy enterprise no lad was bolder;
He threw his trusty staff across his shoulder,
And hung his wardrobe on it in a nackin.*

The journey was a long one to be sure;
But Tom was hardy and could much endure:
And so he was resolved to have's end,
And undermine the Thames at Gravesend:
That deep-laid scheme which cockney artists gravels
So vent'rous Tom set out upon his travels.

The weary way he cheer'd with many a song;
Or whistled careless as he jogg'd along:
Till he the mighty city 'gan to approach;

But now he ceased to be so cheery,

The night was dark and Tom was weary;

* Handkerchief,

B

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NO TRICKS UPON TRAVELLERS.

When soon he saw and loudly hail'd a coach: 'Hoa!-Maister Coachman, have'e room for me? 'Can'st taak a body in that's mighty tir'd?' 'Yes,' replied Coachee, I have only three :' The price agreed for soon the place was hired. 'Twas pitchy dark, Tom could not see a face; But 'twixt two passengers he took his place.

Tom was a social fellow-lov'd to chatter,
And what the subject was, was no great matter;
Eh, golls!' says Tom, in such a night as this,
"This warm frieze-coat of yours is not amiss;
'Be sleaping Maister-may I be so bold?'
Tom shook him, but he only growl'd.

A man who sat Tom's vis-a-vis,
Now spoke, 'Why look ye, sir d'ye see,
That Gem'man there, must needs be dumb,
Because from Russia he's but lately come,
And cannot talk our English lingo:

'I am the tutor, sir, to that young lad,

The Russian's Nephew, and sure man ne'er had 'A wickeder young rogue to teach, by jingo.'

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Why, sir,' says Tom, 'tis my belief,

"The Nephew is a little thief;

'Ave steal'd away my tatey pasty ;*

Sich tricks in junsters, sir, be nasty;
And ef a worn't a cheeld, as I may saay,
"Id throw mun out of winder in the waay.'
But now the crazy vehicle stood still,
Whilst Coachee turn'd about,

And begg'd the Gem'men to get out,
And ease his tired cattle up the hill:
No sooner said than done,*
Each descended--one and one.

Potatoe Pasty.

NO TRICKS UPON TRAVELLERS.

And now along the road they're walking,
Of this, and that thing, busy talking;
Tom felt his Cornish spirits rising;
Spoke of his wrestling as surprising:
The other cried, if that's your sort,
My Russian friend can show you sport;
'He practises the Cornish hug;

'Knows skilful how to turn to hip ;*

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Giving your heels the cleanest trip, Will lay you on your back so snug.'

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'Will 'a'? quoth Tom, ef sir, you'll caal

And make the Coachman stop--we'll try a faal; For tho' 'tis dark, and we can't see, 'Yet 'tis as vair for him as me.'

Now matters being settl'd thus,
Thomas approach'd the rugged Russ,
Who seiz'd him quickly round the waist;
And grip'd him hard, and held him fast;
Both came together to the ground,
Away they roll'd with many a bound,
Down o'er a pretty steep declivity;
While the sly Tutor scamper'd after,
Ready to burst his sides with laughter:
And had he not with great activity
Step'd to their aid, and timely stop'd 'em,
Into a gravel pit they'd pop'd 'em.

He rais'd our hero from the ground;

And--hop'd, his friend—the Russian there,'

(Making a formal bow profound)

'Had, like a Gem'man play'd him fair.’ "Why, in his way-I must allow

The Gentleman play'd vair enow,

'But lord! sich strength before I never feel'd!

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Why, es a Liant!!†

A bugg'd me up-as thof wor a cheeld,

"And he a Giant!

A term made use of amongst wrestlers..

+ Ision:

THE COUNTRY BUMPKIN

But now the day began to dawn,
And gild the dew drops on the lawn ;
When Tom look'd round him, with staring eyes
Expressing wonder and surprise;
Saying kind Gentlemen I thonk ye;'
For now did Thomas see most clear,
His late antagonista BEAR!
The Pickpocket-a MONKEY!

Tricks upon Travellers-wont do for me!
So now, my friend, I'll have a bout with thee.''
Then seiz'd the BEAR-WARD by the middle,
As tho' no heavier than his fiddle:

'D'ye sarve me so you son o' bitch!"
Then giving him the flying mare,*
And raising off the ground quite clear,
He sous'd him in a muddy ditch.

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Lie there,' quoth Tom, you fiddling lout,
Your Russian Friend may help you out;
And larn henceforth that Lunnun jokes,
'Are dangerous things with Cornish folks."
A wrestling term.

THE COUNTRY BUMPKIN AND THE
RAZOR-SELLER.
(PINDAR.)

FORBEAR, my friends, to sacrifice your fame To sordid gain, unless that you are starving! . I own, that hunger will indulgence claim,

For hard stone heads, and landscape-carving,

In order to make haste to sell and eat;
For there is certainly a charm in meat:
And in rebellious tones, will stomachs speak,
That have not tasted victuals for a week.

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