Mixing no more with sober men, He found his morals fleeing; With governor and constable He had a host of friends. Or is it necessary But soon he found he could not take, In councils with the patriots Setting no bars to drinking, he His brandy straightway made him walk In very crooked ways ; While lager beer brought to his view The nips kept nipping at his purse- While clear champagne produced in him His cups of wine were followed by Each morning found him getting low As he was getting up. Thus uselessly, and feebly did His short existence flit, Till in a drunken fight he fell Into a drunken fit. The doctors came, but here their skill They found of no avail; They all agreed, what ailed poor Tom Was politics and ale. L. F. WELLS. IS IT ANYBODY'S BUSINESS? 'S it anybody's business, If a gentleman should choose To wait upon a lady, If the lady don't refuse? Or, to speak a little plainer, That the meaning all may know, Is it anybody's business If a lady has a beau? Is it anybody's business When that gentleman doth call, Or when he leaves the lady, a That the curtain should be drawn, To save from further trouble The outside lookers-on ? Is it anybody's business, But the lady's, if her beau Rideth out with other ladies, And does n't let her know? Is it anybody's business, But the gentleman's, if she Should accept another escort, Where he does n't chance to be? If a person's on the sidewalk, Whether great or whether small, Is it anybody's business Where that person means to call? Or if you see a person While he's calling anywhere, Is it any of your business What his business may be there? The substance of our query, What another's business is? We should really like to know, For we are certain, if it is n't, There are some who make it so. FIRST APPEARANCE IN TYPE. H, here it is! I'm famous now; It really is in print. Hurrah! And gentle Anna! what a thrill To read these ardent lines, and know, To whom they are addressed. Why, bless my soul! here's something wrong; By talking of the "graceful brook," And here's a t instead of r, Which makes it "tippling rill," We'll seek the "shad" instead of "shade," And "hell" instead of "hill." "Thy looks so "-what?—I recollect, 'Twas "sweet," and then 'twas "kind"; And now, to think-the stupid fool- Was ever such provoking work? That any thing is rendered blind The color of the "rose" is "nose," "Affection" is "affliction." I wonder if the likeness holds In fact as well as fiction? "Thou art a friend" The r is gone; Whoever could have deemed That such a trifling thing could change A friend into a fiend. "Thou art the same," is rendered shame," It really is too bad! And here because an i is out They drove her blind by poking in And now they've gouged it out again, I'll read no more. What shall I do? The paper's scattered far and wide, Oh, fame! thou cheat of human life, I wish my poem had been burnt, a THE CONFESSION. HERE'S somewhat on my breast, father, There's somewhat on my breast! The live-long day I sigh, father, At night I cannot rest; I cannot take my rest, father, They mourn to see my grief, Can give my heart relief! 'Tis not that Janet's false, father, 'Tis not the coldness of her heart THE NEWCASTLE APOTHECARY. MEMBER of the Esculapian line lived at Newcastle-upon-Tyne: no man could better gild a pill, or make a bill, or mix a draught, or bleed, or blister; or draw a tooth out of your head; or chatter scandal by your bed; or spread a plaster. His fame full six miles round the country ran; in short, in reputation he was solus: all the old women called him "a fine man!" His name was Bolus. Benjamin Bolus, though in trade (which oftentimes will genius fetter), read works of fancy, it is said, and cultivated the belles lettres. Bolus loved verse; and took so much delight in't, all his prescriptions he resolved to write in't. No opportunity he e'er let pass of writing the directions on his labels in dapper couplets, like Gay's Fables, or rather like the lines in Hudibras. He had a patient lying at death's door, some three miles from the town-it might be four-to whom, one evening Bolus sent an article--in pharmacy that's called cathartical: and on the label of the stuff he wrote this verse, which one would think was clear enough, and terse "When taken, To be well shaken." Next morning early Bolus rose, and to the patient's house he goes, upon his pad, who a vile trick of stumb ling had; but he arrived, and gave a tap, between a single and a double rap. The servant lets him in, with dismal face, long as a courtier's out of place-portend- "I have left a good woman who never was here," ing some disaster. John's countenance as rueful looked and grim, as if the apothecary had physicked him, and not his master. --- The stranger he made reply; "But that my draught should be better for that, "St. Keyne," quoth the countryman, "many a time And before the angel summoned her "Well, how's the patient?" Bolus said. John shook his head. "Indeed!-hum!-ha!-that's very odd !— -"Well? he took the draught?"-John gave a nod.how? what then?-speak out, you dunce!" "Why then," says John, "we shook him once."—"Shook him! how? how?" friend Bolus stammered out. "If the husband of this gifted well "We jolted him about." "What! shake the patient, man!-why that won't do." "No, sir,” quoth John, “and so we gave him two." "Two shakes! O luckless verse! 'Twould make the patient worse!" "It did so, sir, and so a third we tried."—"Well, and what then?"-“Then, sir, my master died!" GEORGE COLMAN, Shall drink before his wife, "But if the wife should drink of it first, "You drank of the well, I warrant, betimes?" But the countryman smiled as the stranger spake, "I hastened, as soon as the wedding was done, But i' faith, she had been wiser than me, 66 ROBERT SOUTHEY. SALLY SIMPKIN'S LAMENT. "He left his body to the sea, WHAT is that comes gliding in, And quite in middling haste? "It is not painted to the life, For where's the trousers blue? "O Sally dear, it is too true The half that you remark "O Sally, sharks do things by halves, A bite in one place seems enough, "You know I once was all your own, "Alas! death has a strange divorce. It has divided me from you, And even me from me! Don't fear my ghost will walk o' nights My ghost can't walk, for, O, my legs "Lord! think when I am swimming round, "One half is here, the other half O Sally, I have got the whole "But now, adieu-a long adieu ! I've solved death's awful riddle, And would say more, but I am doomed To break off in the middle !" All spread With spots of white and red; Hair of the color of a wisp of straw, And a disposition like a cross-cut saw. Her brother David was a tall, Well, David undertook one night to play He knew, Would be returning from a journey through A grove of forest wood That stood Below The house some distance-half a mile or so. With a long taper Cap of white paper, | Just made to cover A wig, nearly as large over As a corn-basket, and a sheet (The way in which ghosts are always dressed,) He took His station near A huge oak-tree, Whence he could overlook The road and see Whatever might appear It happened that about an hour before, friend Abel Had left the table Of an inn, where he had made a halt, To taste a flagon Of malt Liquor, and so forth, which, being done, He went on, Caring no more for twenty ghosts, Than if they were so many posts. David was nearly tired of waiting; His patience was abating; At length, he heard the careless tones Of his kinsman's voice, And then the noise Of wagon-wheels among the stones. Abel was quite elated, and was roaring With all his might, and pouring Out, in great confusion, Scraps of old songs made in "The Revolution." Scaring the whip-poor-wills among the trees 66 See the Yankees leave the hill, With baggernetts declining, With lopped-down hats and rusty guns, See the Yankees-Whoa! Why, what is that?" As slowly on the fearful figure strode Into the middle of the road. "My conscience, what a suit of clothes! Some crazy fellow, I suppose. Hallo! friend, what's your name? by the powers a gin, That's a strange dress to travel in." "Be silent, Abel; for I now have come To read your doom; Then hearken, while your fate I now declare. I am a spirit—" "I suppose you are; But you'll not hurt me, and I'll tell you why: Here is a fact which you cannot deny ; All spirits must be either good And be you good or evil, I am sure If a good spirit, I am safe. If evil And I don't know but you may be the devilIf that's the case, you'll recollect, I fancy, That I am married to your sister Nancy!" 7 FAITHLESS SALLY BROWN. OUNG BEN he was a nice young man, A carpenter by trade; And he fell in love with Sally Brown, But as they fetched a walk one day, Whilst Ben he was brought to. The boatswain swore with wicked words, Enough to shock a saint, That though she did seem in a fit, 'Twas nothing but a feint. 'Come, girl," said he, "hold up your head, He'll be as good as me ; For when your swain is in our boat, So when they'd made their game of her, She roused, and found she only was "And is he gone, and is he gone?" "Alas! they've taken my beau Ben Says he, "They've only taken him K Oh! would I were a mermaid now, "Alas! I was not born beneath Now Ben had sailed to many a place, But when he called on Sally Brown, How could you serve me so? Then reading on his 'bacco box, And then he tried to sing "All's Well,” His death, which happened in his berth, They went and told the sexton, and THOMAS HOOD. OF A CERTAIN MAN. HERE was (not certain when) a certain preacher, That never learned, and yet became a teacher, Who having read in Latin thus a text Of erat quidam homo, much perplexed, He seemed the same with study great to scan, In English thus, There was a certain man. "But now," quoth he, “good people, note you this He saith there was, he doth not say there is; For in these days of ours it is most plain Of promise, oath, word, deed, no man's certain; Yet by my text you see it comes to pass That surely once a certain man there was; But, yet, I think, in all your Bible no man Can find this text, There was a certain woman." SIR JOHN HARRINGTON. |