Imagens da página



Exceeded, I believe, by no man,
The alderman, so virtuous, cry'd out. Shame!
Damme! (to Robinson, said Master Skinner)
Who on such mutton, sir, can make a dinner?'

You, if you please,' Cry'd Mr. Robinson, with perfect case, • Sir! quoth the red-hot alderman again ; * You,' quoth the hind, in just the same cool strain.

Off! off! (cry'd Skinner with your carrion heap ; • Quick, me, take away your nasty sheep! • Whilst I command, not e’en the king • Shall such vile stuff to market bring, • And London stalls such garbage put on ; •So take away your stinking mutton.' You (reply'd Robinson) you cry out “Shame!

'You blast the sheep, good Master Skinner, pray! You give the harmless mutton a bad name!

• You impudently order it away! Sweet Master Alderman, do n't make this rout: • Clap on your spectacles upon your snout, • And then your keen surreying eyes regale,

• With those same fine large letters on the cart, • Which brought this blasted mutton here for sale.'

Poor Skinner read, and read it with a start! Like Hamlet frighten'd at his father's ghost, The alderman stood staring like a post ; He saw G. R. inscrib'd in handsome letters, Which prov'd the sheep belong'd unto his betters. The alderman now turn'd to deep reflection ; And being bless'd with proper recollection, Exclaim'd—I've made a great mistake-Oh, sad; • The sheep are really not so bad. • Dear Mr. Robinson, I beg your pardon ; • Your Job-like patience I've born hard on;



• Whoever says, the mutton is not good, Knows nothing, Mr. Robinson of food.

I verily believe, I could turn glutton, • On such neat, wholesome, pretty-looking mutton; Pray Mr. Robinson, the mutton sell; • I hope, sir, that his majesty is well.' So saying, Mr. Robinson he quitted,

With cherubimic smiles, and placid brows, For such embarrassing occasions fitted ;

Adding just five and twenty humble bows. To work went Robinson to sell the sheep, But people would not buy, except dog-cheap ; At length the sheep were sold - without the fleece, And brought king Georgejust half-a-crown a piece.



(BY MR. UARNISON.) SINCE Gratitude, 'tis said, is not o'er common,

And friendly acts are pretty near as few ; And high and low, with man, and eke with woman,

With Turk, with Pagan, Christian and with Jew; We ought, at least, whene'er we chance to find,

or these rare qualities a slender sample, To shew they may possess the human inind,

And try the boasted influence of examplc. Who knows how far the novelty may charm? It can't at any rate, do much harm ;

The tale we give then, and we need not fear,

The moral, if there be one, will appear. Two thirsty souls met on a sultry day,

One Glazier Dick, the other Tom the Tinker ; Both with light purses, but with spirits gay,

And hard it were to name the sturdiest drinker,



Their ale they quaff*d ;
And, as they swigg'd their nappy,

Though both agreed, 'tis said,

That trade was wond'rous dead,
They jok'd sung, laughid,
And were completely happy.
The landlord's eye, bright as his sparkling ale,

Glistened to see them the brown pitcher hug;
For ev'ry jest, and song, and merry tale,

Had this blithe ending—Bring us t' other mug!' Now Dick the glazier, feels his bosom burn, To do his friend, Tom Tinker a good turn, And where the heart to friendship feels inclin'd, Occasion seldom loiters long behind.

The kettle gaily singing on the fire,

Gives Dick a hint just to his heart's desire ;
And while to draw more ale the landlord goes,
Dick, in the ashes, all the water throws,
Then puts the kettle on the fire again,

And at the Tinker winks,

Aš trade's success!' he drinks, Nor doubts the wish'd success Tom will obtain. Our landlord ne'er could such a toast withstand: So, giving each kind customer a hand,

His friendship too display'd,

And drank Success to trade!'
But, 0, how pleasure vanislı'd from his eye,

How long and rueful his round visage grew:
Soon as he saw the kettle's bottom fly,
Solder the only fluid he could view!"

He rav'd, he caper'd, and he swore,

And did the kettle's bottom o'er and o’er. • Come, come!' says Dick, 'fetch us, my friend

more ale; • All trades you know, must lire: 'Let's drink --May trade with none of us, ne'er fail! • The job to Tom, then give;

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

. And, for the ale he drinks, our lad of mettle,
Take my word for it, soon will mend your kettle.
The landlord yields, but hopes 'tis 11o offence,

To curse the trade that thrives at his expense.
Tom undertakes the job; to work he goes,
And just concludes it with the ev'ning's close.
Souls so congenial, bad friends Tom and Dick, .

They might be fairly call'd brother and brother; Thought Tom to serve my friend, I know a trick, * And one good turn always deserves another!'

Out now le slily slips,
But not a word he said:
The plot was in his head,

And off he nimbly trips.
Swift to the neighb'ring church, his way he takes:

Nor, in the dark,

Misses his mark,
But every pane of glass he quickly breaks.

Back as he goes,

His bosom glows,
To think how great will be his friend Dick's joy,
At getting so much excellent employ!
Return'd, be beck'ning, draws his friend aside,

Importance in his face;
And, to Dick's ear his mouth applied,

Thus briefly states the case
• Dick! I may give you joy, you ’re a made man ;

• I've done your business most complete my friend; • I'm off!

-the devil may catch me if he can, • Each window of the churchi you've got to mend; • Ingratitude's worst curse on my head fall, ..If, for your sake, I have not broke them all! Tom with surprize, sces Dick turn pale,

Who deeply sighs—0, la!'

Then drops his under jaw,
And all his pow'rs of utt'rance fail:



While horror in his ghastly face,

And bursting eye-balls Tom can trace, Whose sympathetic muscles, just and true,

Share with heart,

Dick's unknown smart,
And two such phizzes ne'er met mortal view.
At length, friend Dick his speechi regain’d,
And soon the mystery explain'd-

You have, indeell, my business done!
• And I, as well as you must run ;
• For let me act the best I can,

• Tom! Tom! I am a ruin'd man. * Zounds! zounds! this friendship is a foolish act, • You did n't know with the parish I contract; • Your wish to serve me, then, will cost me dear, • I always mend those windows, by the year.'





ONE Sabbath-day morning said Sampson to Sue
I have thought and have thought that a TITLE will

do ;

Believe me, my dear, it is sweeter than syrup To taste of a title as cooked up in Europe ; • Your ladyship’ here, and · Your ladyship’ there, • Sir knight,' and your grace;' and his worship

the mayor!' But here, we are nothing but vulgar all over, The wife of a cobler scarce thinks you above her: What a country is this, where madam and miss Is the highest address from each vulgar-born cur, And I even I-am but MISTER and sir!

« AnteriorContinuar »