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sitions into their Album. Senseless objection! These are the very evidences of their genuineness, and I would no more have them removed, than would Martinus have wished to scrub the precious ærugo from the brazen shield, and invest it with a new polish. When Mr. Capel Lofft told us that he had merely corrected a few verbal inaccuracies in Bloomfield's early productions, their charm was at once broken; for we knew not the extent of these revisions, and what was wonderful in a peasant would have been poor enough in a gentleman. As to Miss Caustic's assertion, that Mr. Crump inquired of her whether Mount Ætna was to be spelt with a whipthong, (meaning diphthong,) I believe it to be a spiteful fabrication ; and as to her pretended regret, that he would no longer be able to drive his cart straightforward, because I had completely turned his head, I consider it a mere impertinence. To the thoughts and descriptive parts of his elegy no objections can be urged; it is obvious that he paints from the life, and the allusion to the regular appearance of his master's gig at the door, so perfectly in accord with the punctual habits of that respectable tradesman, is a felicity of local truth which must come home to the bosom of the most careless reader. However, jealousy of a rising luninary prevailed; the remainder of the elegy, declared to be inadmissible, has gone to join the lost books of Livy and the missing comedies of Terence, and I esteem myself happy to have preserved the exordium, which I now confidently present to a candid and judicious public.
In casting my eye over our Album, I venture to extract the following epigram and epitaph, from the pen
of Mr. Skinner the Tanner :
Here lies my dear wife, a sad vixen and shrew;
If I said I regretted her, I should lie too. Were the subject of this inscription a stranger, I should scruple to circulate this couplet ; but, as she was a particular friend of mamma's, who declares the character to be strictly merited, I hesitate not to give it publicity.
From Mr. Schweitzkoffer's serio-comic epic, “The Apotheosis of Snip,” of which I promised you further extracts, I select for my present communication the description of the hero.
“ His lank and scanty hair was black,
As broad and strong as Plato's;
A dish of mash'd potatoes.
The mutilated Sphinx Egyptian,
Handle for blowing nor description.
I know not what to call a snout
Described before by no man,
It would have been a Roman.
Such dumpy legs, and bow knees,
And Buckhorse an Adonis."
As conjugal portraits should be always hung up in couples, I send you the drawing of his wife, with which I shall conclude at present, in the full assurance that the delineation of so tempting a creature will excite an intense curiosity for a further developement of her charms in future communications.
“ His rib—(to judge by length alone,
Tall as a Maypole ran,
(Her chin was full a span);
As if afraid of being wet,
That they were always in eclipse,
Save when on pleasurable trips
A BREWER in a country town
Had got a monstrous reputation; No other beer but his went down,
The hosts of the surrounding station Carving his name upon
mugs, And painting it on every shutter;
And though some envious folks would utter Hints, that its flavour came from drugs, Others maintain'd 'twas no such matter,
But owing to his monstrous vat,
At least as corpulent as that
An honest fellow;
Till he was stupefied and mellow.
Having to cross the vat aforesaid,
O’ercome with giddiness and qualms, he Reeldfell in-and nothing more said, But in his favourite liquor died,
Like Clarence in his butt of Malmsey. In all directions round about
The negro absentee was sought,
But as no human noddle thought That our fat Black was now Brown Stout, They settled that the rogue had left The place for debt, or crime, or theft. Meanwhile the beer was day by day Drawn into casks and sent away,
Until the lees flow'd thick and thicker ; When, lo! outstretch'd upon the ground, Once more their missing friend they found,
As they had often done-in liquor.
I always knew the fellow drank hard,
A toast at bottom of a tankard !
Next morn a publican, whose tap
Had help'd to drain the vat so dry,
Came to demand a fresh supply,