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CABINET OF MOMUS.

NO TRICKS UPON TRAVELLERS.

A TALE (pExwirai.)

A. Cornish Miner, high in wrestling fame,
And Thomas .Triggymggy was his name:

To London city Tom would fain be packing;
In hardy enterprise no lad was bolder;
He threw bis 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-Jaid 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

2 NO TRICKS UPON TRAVELLERS.

When soon he saw and loudly hail'd a coach: 'Hoa!—Maister Coachman, have'e room forme?

'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.'

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

'The Nephew is a little thief;

'Ave stoaVd 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.

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