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I heard the announcement of their servants' arrival with a pleasure that I could ill conceal.—“Mrs. Waddle's maid and umbrella!” sounded up the stairs, and the corpulent old lady slowly obeyed the summons. “Miss Clacket's pattens stop the way!" was the next cry; and her shrill voice, still audible from below, continued without ceasing till the hall-door closed upon her clangour. “Mr. Wheeze's boy and lantern !" followed; when the worthy oilman, having put on two great coats, and tied as many handkerchiefs round his throat, coughed himself out of the house, wishing that he was well over Tower Hill, on his way to Ratcliffe. Mrs. Dubbs's shopman came to claim the last of this quartetto of quizzes; and I was just congratulating myself on the prospect of renewing our feast of intellect, free from the interruptions of uncongenial souls, when my father, running up to the table, cried out-“Well, now let's see what card-money they have left.” So saying, he looked under one of the candlesticks, took up a shilling, bit it, rung it upon the table, and exclaiming, “Zounds ! it's a bad one---it's Mrs. Dubbs's place ---Hallo! Mrs. Dubbs, this won't do though, none of your raps”—rushed hastily out of

After two or three minutes passed by me in silent horror, he re-entered, nearly out of breath, ejaculating, as he spun another shilling with his finger and thumb_“Ay, ay, this will do; none of your tricks upon travellers, Mrs. Dubbs :--a rank Brummagem !"

Miss Caustic began the titter---but I can describe no farther. I fell into as complete a state of defail

the room.

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lance as the subject of Sappho's celebrated ode-my blood tingled, my eyes swam, “ my ears with hollow murmurs rang;" and yet this fainting of the mind did not afford


relief to the shame and mortification that overwhelmed the too refined and sensitive bosom of



The Handkerchief.
A JUDGE of the Police and Spy

(For both are join'd in Eastern nations),
Prowling about with

purpose sly, To list to people's conversations, And pry


every corner cupboard,
According to his dirty calling,
Saw a poor woman passing by,

Who wept and blubber'd,
Like a church spout when rain is falling,

Which strives in vain to vent and utter

The overflowings of the gutter.
Our magistrate thought fit to greet her,

Insisting on the dame's declaring

What caused this monstrous ululation :
When she averr’d her spouse had beat her

Black and blue beyond all bearing,

Without the smallest provocation.
To work the Judge's pen and ink went,

Taking the rogue's address and trade,
And the next morning the delinquent

Was duly into Court convey'd :

When he asserted, that his wife
Was such an advocate of strife,
That she would raise a mighty clangour,

And put herself into a pucker,

For trifles that surpass'd belief, And, for the recent cause of anger,

He swore, point blank, that he had struck her

With nothing but his handkerchief. The Judge, convinced by this averment,

Dismiss'd the case without a word ; When in the Court there rose a ferment,

And the wife's angry voice was heard-To cheat your Worship is too bad !

My Lord, my Lord! do interpose,

And stop the knave where'er he lingers;
The villain ! he forgot to add
That he for ever blows his nose
With his own fingers !"

The Jester condemned to Death,

ONE of the Kings of Scanderoon,

A Royal Jester,
Had in his train a gross buffoon,

Who used to pester
The Court with tricks inopportune,
Venting on the highest folks his
Scurvy pleasantries and hoaxes.
It needs some sense to play the fool,

Which wholesome rule
Occurr'd not to our jackanapes,

Who consequently found his freaks Lead to innumerable scrapes,

And quite as many kicks and tweaks,

Which only seem'd to make him faster
Try the patience of his master.
Some sin, at last, beyond all measure
Incurr’d the desperate displeasure

Of his Serene and raging Highness:
Whether he twitch'd his most revered

And sacred beard,
Or had intruded on the shyness
Of the Seraglio, or let fly
An epigram at royalty,
None knows ;-his sin was an occult one ;
But records tell us that the Sultan,
Meaning to terrify the knave,

Exclaim'd—“'Tis time to stop that breath; Thy doom is seald :-presumptuous slave!

Thou stand'st condemn'd to certain death. Silence, base rebel ! --no replying !

But such is my indulgence still,

That, of my own free grace and will, I leave to thee the mode of dying.”

Thy royal will be done’tis just,” Replied the wretch, and kiss'd the dust;

last moments to assuage, Your Majesty's humane decree Has deign'd to leave the choice to me,

I'll die, so please you, of old age !"

Since, my


“Whoe'er has travell’d life's dull round,

Whate'er its changes may have been,
May sigh to think that he has found

The warmest welcome at an inn.” SHENSTONE.

6 Blkst as the immortal gods is he," the youth, who, without the effort of using his own limbs, protected from the earth beneath and the skies above, is rapidly whirled in a close carriage to the ever open and hospitable door of a good tavern. Before the footman or coachman can descend, for the jaunty swing of the private chariot or the rattling jolt of a hackney coach are welcomed with equal deference, half a dozen waiters rush from the house, the steps are lowered with all the celerity that is consistent with the prevention of noise, elbows are respectfully tendered to the descending visitant, a respectful procession ushers him into the spacious illumined refectory, and the lady at the bar bows to him as he passes with a smile, which, while it preserves the dignity due to her presiding station, seems to say "Thrice welcome to all that my house contains the longer you stay, the more you revel, the greater your waste and devastation, the more acceptable will be your august presence.” Hers are not the complimentary hyperboles of the Persian, who goes to the outskirts of the city and exclaims to every traveller—"Deign to accept of Shiraz and all its dependencies !"—No; her heart

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