ness, that things cannot go without hands." Not even harpsichords," I replied; " and yet they are constantly going." However, I am a recognised amateur, and of course bound to like music, whatever effects it produces; though I confess I should be better pleased if every visitant were compelled to give a concert in return, by which arrangement our moveables might justify their name, and after performing the tour of our circle, return to their original quarters. At all events I am an inveterate amateur, and therefore I exclaim con amore, and with infinite bitterness-Hail to that bewitching art, which lightens our bosoms as well as our brackets, eases us of our cares and candlesticks, imperceptibly steals away our vexations and valuables, and clears at the same moment our minds and our mantelpieces!

PETER PINDARICS.

The Poet and the Alchymist.

AUTHORS of modern date are wealthy fellows ;

'Tis but to snip his locks they follow
Now the golden-hair'd Apollo.-
Invoking Plutus to puff up the bellows
Of inspiration, they distill

The rhimes and novels which cajole us,

Not from the Heliconian rill,

But from the waters of Pactolus.

Before this golden age of writers,
A Grub-street Garreteer existed,
One of the regular inditers

Of odes and poems to be twisted
Into encomiastic verses,

For patrons who have heavy purses.-
Besides the Bellman's rhymes, he had
Others to let, both gay and sad,

All ticketed from A to Izzard;
And living by his wits, I need not add,
The rogue was lean as any lizard.

Like a ropemaker's were his ways,
For still one line upon another
He spun, and like his hempen brother,
Kept going backwards all his days.

Hard by his attic lived a Chymist,
Or Alchymist, who had a mighty
Faith in the Elixir Vitæ ;

And though unflatter'd by the dimmest
Glimpses of success, kept groping

And grubbing in his dark vocation,
Stupidly hoping

To find the art of changing metals,
And guineas coin from pans and kettles,
By mystery of transmutation.

Our starving Poet took occasion

To seek this conjuror's abode;
Not with encomiastic ode,

Or laudatory dedication,
But with an offer to impart,

For twenty pounds, the secret art,

Which should procure, without the pain

Of metals, chymistry, and fire, What he so long had sought in vain, And gratify his heart's desire.

The money paid, our bard was hurried
To the philosopher's sanctorum,
Who, somewhat sublimized and flurried,
Out of his chemical decorum,

Crow'd, caper'd, giggled, seem'd to spurn his
Crucibles, retort, and furnace,

And cried, as he secured the door,

And carefully put to the shutter, the secret I implore;

66 Now, now,

For God's sake, speak, discover, utter!"

With grave and solemn look, the poet
Cried-List-Oh, list! for thus I show it :-
Let this plain truth those ingrates strike,

Who still, though bless'd, new blessings crave,

That we may all have what we like,
Simply by liking what we have!"

The Astronomical Alderman.

THE pedant or scholastikos became
The butt of all the Grecian jokes ;-
With us, poor Paddy bears the blame
Of blunders made by other folks;
Though we have certain civic sages
Term'd Aldermen, who perpetrate
Bulls as legitimate and great,

As

any

that the classic pages

Of old Hierocles can show,

Or Mr. Miller's, commonly call'd Joe.

One of these turtle-eating men,
Not much excelling in his spelling,

When ridicule he meant to brave,

Said he was more PH. than N.

Meaning thereby, more phool than nave, Though they who knew our cunning Thraso Pronounced it flattery to say so.

His civic brethren to express

His "double double toil and trouble," And bustling noisy emptiness,

Had christen'd him Sir Hubble Bubble.

This wight ventripotent was dining
Once at the Grocers' Hall, and lining
With calipee and calipash

That tomb omnivorous-his paunch,
Then on the haunch

Inflicting many a horrid gash,
When, having swallow'd six or seven
Pounds, he fell into a mood
Of such supreme beatitude,
That it reminded him of Heaven,
And he began with mighty bonhomie

To talk astronomy.

"Sir," he exclaim'd between his bumpers,

66

Copernicus and Tycho Brahe,

And all those chaps have had their day;

They've written monstrous lies, Sir,-thumpers !—

Move round the sun?-it's talking treason;
The earth stands still-it stands to reason.
Round as a globe?-stuff-humbug-fable!
It's a flat sphere, like this here table,
And the sun overhangs this sphere,
Ay-just like that there chandelier."

"But," quoth his neighbour, "when the sun
From East to West his course has run,
How comes it that he shows his face

Next morning in his former place?"

"Ho! there's a pretty question truly !"
Replied our wight with an unruly
Burst of laughter and delight,

66

So much his triumph seem'd to please him
Why, blockhead, he goes back at night,
'And that's the reason no one sees him."

;

ANTIQUITY AND POSTERITY.

Past and to come seem best; things present worst.
SHAKSPEARE.

I INTENDED to have addressed this essay to Posterity, but I recollected the sarcasm levelled against the French author who dedicated an ode to the same personage that it would never reach its destination; besides, I may inquire with the Irishman, "What has Posterity ever done for us?" and why should we throw away good advice, which will probably be unheard by the party for whom it was intended, and will be certainly unmerited? As to Antiquity-the stream of time is the only one that cannot be navigated both ways; there is no steam-boat that can work against wind and tide, and carry a passenger or a letter back to the fountain-head of events, or even to the last landmark that we passed in our voyage to the great ocean of Eternity. To say the truth, I have no respect whatever for that solemn bugbear, that shadowy quack, yclept Antiquity, whom I have always contemplated as a very grave impostor and reverend humbug (begging pardon for such a conjunction of phrases) and as to the good old times, of which every body talks so much and knows so little, which, like the horizon, keep flying farther backward as we attempt to approach them, I suspect that if we could once pounce upon them and subject them to our inspection, we should find them to be the very worst