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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 fiiat's your sort,
'My Russian friend can show you sport;

* He practises the Cornish hug;

'Knows skilful how to turn to hip;*
'Giving your heels the cleanest trip,

* Will lay you on your back so snug.'
'Will'a'? quoth Tom, 'ef sir, you'll caal
'And make the Coachman stop—we'll tryafaaij
'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—' Iiop'd, his friend—the Russian there,' (Making a formal bow profound)

'Had, like a Gem'man play'd him fair.' 8 Why,—in his way—I must allow

* The Gentleman play'd vair enow,

'But lord! sich strength before I neverfeeVd!

'Why, es a Liant J ! f 'A hugg'd me up—as thof ivor a cheeld,

'And he a Giant!

* A teem made use of amongst wrestlers.. f luari


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 antagonist a Bear!

The Pickpocket a Monkey!

'Tricks upon Travellers—wont do for me! 'So now, my friend, I'll have a bout with thee:9' Then seiz'd the BBar-Ward by the middle, As tho' no heavier than his fiddle:

'D'ye sarve me so you son o' bitch!* Then giving him thejlying mare,* And raising off the ground quite clear,

He sous'd him in a muddy ditch.

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

* A wrestling term.



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.


But yet there are a mercenary crew,

Who value fame, no more than an old shoe;

Provided, for their daubs they get a sale,

Just like the man but, stay—I'll tell the tale;

A fellow, in a market town,

Most musical, cry'd razors up and down.

And offer'd twelve for eighteen pence; Which certainly seem'd wond'rous cheap, And, for the money, quite a heap.

As ev'ry man would buy, with cash and sense,

A country Bumpkin the great offer heard,

Poor Hodge, who suffer'd by a broad black beard,

That seem'd a shoe-brush stuck beneath his nose: With cheerfulness, the eighteen pence he paid; And proudly to himself, in whispers, said:

'This rascal stole the razors, I suppose.'

'No matter, if the fellow be a knave, 'Provided that the razors shave;

'It certainly will be a monstrous prize.' So home the clown, with his good fortune, went— Smiling—in heart and soul, content—

And quickly soap'd himself, to ears and eyes.

Being well lathered, from a dish or tub,
Hodge now began with grinning pain, to grub;

Just like a hedger cutting furze.
'Twas a vile razor!—then the rest he try'd—
Ml were impostors J—' Ali!' Hodge sigh'd,

'I wish my eighteen pence were in my purse!'

In vain, to chase his beard, and bring the graces, He cut, and dug, and wine'd, and stamp'd, and swore; Brought blood, and dane'd, blasphem'd and made wry faces; And curs'd each razor's body o'er and o'er:


His muzzle, form'd of opposition stuff,
Firm as a Foocite, would not lose its ruff;

So kept it—laughing at the steel and sutls. Hodge in a passion, stretch'd his angry jaws, Vowing the direst vengeance, with clench'd claws,

On the vile cheat, that sold the goods— 'Razors!—(a daiun'd, confounded dog!)

'Not fit to scrape a hog!'

Hodge sought the fellow—found him, and begun— 'Perhaps, Master Razor-rogue, to you 'tis fun,

•That people flay themselves out of their lives! i You rascal!—for an hour have 1 been grubbing, 'Giving my scoundrel whiskers here a scrubbing,

'With razors, just like oyster-knives. 'Sirrah! I tell you, you're a knave, 'To cry up razors, that can't shave."

'Friend,' quoth the razor-man, l I'm not a knave;

'As for the razors you have bought,

'Upon my soul I never thought, 'That they would shave.'

'Not think, they'd shave!' quoth Hodge with wontl'ring eyes,

And voice not much unlike an Indian yell; • What were they made for, then? you dog! he cries^

'Made." quoth the fellow with a smile,—' to sell."


Once an old country squaretoes, to fopp'ry a foe.
And disgusted alike at a crop and a beau,
Being church-warden made, was in office so strict,
That there scarce was a coat, but a hole in't he'd


Infringements, encroachments, and trespasses scouting:

And from straddling the tomb-stones the boys dailyrouting:

At last made ajustice, corruption to purge,

His worship became both' a nuisance and scourge:

When a poor needy neighbour, who kept a milch ass,

Which he often turn'd into the church-yard for grass,

And with long cars and tail o'er the graves did he stray,

While perchance, now and then, at by-standers he'd bray:

And once when old Midas was passing along,

He set up bis pipes at his brother, ding dong;

At which hispuff'd pride was so stung to the quick

That he glar'd at the browseras stern as Old Nick;

And when he got home, for the sexton he sent,

Who, with this doughty threat to the ass-keeper went;

That again should his beast the church-warden assail,

Or be seen in the church-yard—he'd cut off his tail;

When the owner replied—' Sure his worship but jeers;

But should he dock donky—I'll cut off his ears'

When no sooner the answer was brought to him back,

But he summon'd before him the clown in a crack;

And he said—' Thou vile varlet, how comes it to pass,

That thou dar'st for to threaten to crop & just-ass?

Thou cut off my ears?—Make his mittimus, clerk;

I'll make an example of this precious spark:

But first reach me down the black act—he shall see

That, the next Lent Assizes, he'll swing on a tree.'

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