MILLER REDIVIVUS ; OR, AN OLD JOE IN A NEW DRESS. Mrs. Rose Grob. NONE would have known that Siegmund Grob But that he died, and left the job Of Tombstone-making to an Undertaker; Who, being a Mason also, was a Poet,— So he engraved a skull upon the stone, (The Sexton of Whitechapel Church will show it,) Then carved the following couplet from his own"STOP, READER, STOP, AND GIVE A SOB FOR SIEGMUND GROB!" Grob's Widow had been christen'd Rose, Roses, which quickly fled in scorn, To guard her lips from kisses. She relish'd tea and butter'd toast, Better than being snubb'd and school'd; Liking no less to rule the roast, Than feast upon the roast she ruled And though profuse of tongue withal, Now, as she was a truly loving wife, As well as provident in all her dealings, Just as a little hedge against her feelings- Two thousand pounds, besides her savings, Accordingly in Mile End Road She quickly chose a snug retreat; "Twas quite a pastoral abode, Its situation truly sweet! Although it stood in Prospect Row, 'Twas luckily the corner house, With a side-window and a bow: Next to it was the Milkman's yard, whose cows When there were neither grains nor chaff to browse, Under the very casement stood to low. That was a pleasant window altogether, And when there was no dust or foggy weather, The Monument you might explore, And see, without a glass, the people Across the road, half down a street, You caught a field, with hoofs well beaten ; For cattle there were put to eat, Till they were wanted to be eaten. Then as for shops, want what you will, A Tallow Chandler's nearer still; And as to stages by the door, Besides the Patent Coach, or Dandy, A dozen in an hour or more One dust was never gone before Another came:-'twas monstrous handy! Behind, a strip of garden teem'd With cabbages and kitchen shrubs; 'Twas a good crop when she redeem'd Half from the worms, and slugs, and grubs. Beyond these was a brick-kiln, small But always smoking; she must needs In town she always had a teasing Here she was quite a different creature:- Give her the country air, and nature! Her cottage front was stucco'd white; Upon the house-top, on a plaster shell, "Rose Cottage" was inscribed, its name to dub: Whene'er they stopp'd to fix their eye on Here she resided free from strife, Except perpetual scolds with Betty, For the main objects of her life For one no savings were too petty, For t'other no tid-bit too nice. After her dinner, in a trice, She lock'd the fragments up in towels; She weigh'd out bread, and cheese, and butter, And in all cases show'd an utter Disregard for Betty's bowels; As if, in penance for her sins, She made her dine on shanks and shins, And reckon'd it a treat to give her -- First cutting off a slice for Pussey ;Nay, of all perquisites the damsel stripping, She wouldn't even let her sell the dripping! No wonder Betty's unreplenish'd maw Vented itself in constant grumbling, Which was in fact her stomach's rumbling Reduced to words and utter'd from her jaw; But not content with this, the maid Took all advantages within the law (And some without, I am afraid), And get full payment for her inanition. The washing week approach'd: an awful question Of that carnivorous beast-a washer-woman! So theirs takes in at once a ten days' munching; At twelve o'clock you hear them say they've swallow'd Nothing to speak of since their second luncheon, And as they will not dine till one, "Tis time their third lunch were begun. At length provisions being got all proper, And every thing put out, starch, blue, soap, gin ; A fire being duly laid beneath the copper, The clothes in soak all ready to begin, Up to her room the industrious Betty goes, To fetch her sheets, and screams down stairs to Rose, La, goodness me! why here's a job! You ha'nt put out a second pair. No more I have, said Mrs. Grob ; Well, that's a good one, I declare! Sure, I've the most forgetful head And there's no time to air another! So take one sheet from off your bed And make a shift to-night with t'other. On Rose's part this was a ruse de guerre, So in this instance it occurr'd; For Betty took her at her word, Sat up Cut up one sheet into a shift, And took the other off the bed! Next morn, when Mrs. Grob, at three o'clock, And saw the mischief done by aid It gave her to behold the sheet in tatters; She call'd her thief, and slut, and jade, And talk'd of sending for the Beadle! La! Ma'am, quoth Betty, don't make such a pother, I've only done exactly what you said, Taken one sheet from off the bed, And made a shift to-night with t'other ! |