PETER PINDARICS.

The Biter Bit.

JACK DOBSON, honest son of tillage,

The Toby Philpot of his village,

Laugh'd and grew fat, Time's gorgon visage braving ;

To hear him cackle at a hoax,

Or new edition of old jokes,

You'd think a Roman Capitol was saving.

Not Boniface, when at a mug

Of ale he gave a hearty tug,

Was fuller of his subject-matter;

And Dobson had a better plea
For boasting of its pedigree,
For his was brew'd at home, and he
Himself was infinitely fatter.

One cask he had, better and stronger

Than all the rest-brew'd at a christening—

To pass it set his eyes a-glistening;

In short he couldn't tarry longer,

But seizing spiggot and a faucet,

He tapp'd it-quaff'd a luscious posset

Then, like a hospitable fellow,

Sent for his friends to make them mellow.

Among them he invited one

Call'd Tibbs, a simple-witted wight,
Whom Mister Dobson took delight

To make the subject of his fun :
For Nature such few brains had put
In neighbour Tibbs's occiput,

That all the rustic wags and wits
Found him a most convenient butt
For their good hits ;

Though sometimes, as both great and small aver,
He gave them Rowland for their Oliver.

The guests all met, and dinner spread,
Dobson first tipp'd the wink, then said,
"Well, now, my lads, we'll all draw lots,
To settle which of us shall go
Into the cellarage below,
To fill the pots.”

So saying, he adroitly wriggled

The shortest into Tibbs's paw,
Whereat the others hugely giggled,
And Tibbs, obedient to the law,
Went down, the beverage to draw.
Now, Farmer Dobson, wicked wag!
Over the cellar-door had slung
A water-bowl, so slyly hung
That whoso gave the door a drag
Was sure to tumble down at once
A quart of liquid on his sconce.

Our host and all his brother wits,

Soon as they heard their victim's tramp,
Who look'd half-drown'd, burst into fits,
Which in fresh peals of laughter flamed,
When Tibbs, in drawling tone, exclaim'd:
"Isn't your cellar rather damp?”

Grace being said, quick havoc follow'd;
Many good things were said and swallow'd ;-
Joking, laughing, stuffing, and quaffing,
For a full hour they push'd about

The canns, and when there came a pause,
From mere exhaustion of their jaws,

Tibbs, with his nasal twang, drawl'd out

Suppose we now draw lots again,

Which of us shall go down to put

The spiggot back into the butt."

"Why, zounds !"-the farmer roar'd amain,

"The spiggot back !-come, come, you're funning, You hav'n't left the liquor running?""I did as I was order'd, Jack,"

Quoth Tibbs, "and if it was intention'd That I should put the spiggot back, It's a great pity 'twasn't mention'd :— You've lost a cask of precious stuff, But I for one have drunk enough.""Ass! numscull! fool!" the farmer cried,"What can one get, confound their souls! By asking such half-witted lubbers?" "This lesson, neighbour," Tibbs replied,— "That those who choose to play at bowls, Must expect rubbers!"

The Parson at Fault.

A COUNTRY parson took a notion
Into his head, one Whitsuntide,
That it was more like true dévotion

To preach extempore ;-he tried:-
Succeeded once-twice-thrice-but, lo!

His fourth discourse was not forthcoming ;—
Spite of his hawing and his humming,

Not a word farther could he go ;

So that the worthy man perforce

Was fain to leave them in the lurch,

And say, that, since he came to church,
He'd lost the thread of his discourse.

Whereat a man below exclaim'd,
"Lock the doors, beadle-search us round,
All, every one, until it's found:
The thief should really be ashamed.—
Here are my pockets,―ransack both;
I have it not, I'll take my oath."

THE STATUE OF THESEUS,

AND THE SCULPTURE ROOM OF PHIDIAS.

MUTILATED and disfigured as it is, I never approach this majestic statue without feeling an indescribable awe leading me, almost unconsciously, to take off my hat, and look up to it with silent reverence, as if I stood in the presence of some superior being. This impression is probably compounded of the thrilling delight with which minds of any susceptibility usually contemplate the beauty of exquisite proportion---of the vague apprehension inspired by gigantic bulk---and of that lingering homage still attaching itself to whatever has been once associated with the noblest and most solemn affections of the human heart, and contemplated as the figure of a divinity by the most civilized nations of the world. Whatever be the elements of the sensation, never did I feel it so intensely as yesterday, when I pored upon every limb and muscle of this masterpiece of antiquity, until I fell into a reverie, or waking dream; wherein, with all the inconsistency of those mental delusions, I imagined myself to be at Athens, under the administration of the celebrated Pericles. In vain did I endeavour to account for that contemporaneous burst of human genius, under his patronage, which enabled Athens to leap suddenly to the very pinnacle of renown, producing those miracles of art and science, to which, whether emerging from barbarism, or at

tempting improvement in the most refined state of civilization, the world has been invariably compelled to turn back, as to the sole, immutable, and eternal standards of purity and perfection. Fancy transported me to the period when the Parthenon was not yet completed; and methought that a ticket presented to me by Pananus, the kinsman of Phidias, gave me admittance to the sculpture room of that immortal artist, where all the glorious statues, for the two pediments of the building, were to be exhibited to some of the most distinguished citizens, previously to the indiscriminate admission of the people.

Never did so awful, so majestic a vision overwhelm my faculties. My spirit felt rebuked--my heart sank within me--I seemed endeavouring to shrink into myself, as if I had intruded upon Olympus, and sacrilegiously thrust myself into the presence of the immortal gods. Some time elapsed before I was sufficiently recovered to lift up my eyes, and fix them on the prodigies by which I was surrounded, when I observed that all the figures were arranged in the exact positions which they were to occupy in the respective pediments. Those intended for the front, which faces the Propylæa, and the long walls to the Piræus, represented the presentation of Minerva, bý Jupiter, to the goddesses of Olympus. The sublime countenance and stupendous symmetry of the thunderer, who occupied the centre of the group, contrasted admirably with the milder majesty of the virgin Minerva; who, seated in her car, appeared to be slowly ascending Olympus. The figures for the