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T. CROFTON CROKER.
"I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin fell the angels: how can man, then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?"
FISHER, SON, AND JACKSON,
THE HONBLE. MRS. NORTON.
LADY, think not, tho' thou do'st brightly move
Which he to thee inscribes, all dames above.
Nor ground chivalric do I dare debate
With skilful James. Nor yet as vainly prate Of deeds historic, flinging down the glove,
That all may judge between me, and Sir Walter ! Nor emulous of Bulwer, nor of Hook, Do I adventure with my little book.
Nor of that quiet humourist, John Galt, or A dozen more.-For lo! my scene I pitch in Ude's empire; region unexplored-the kitchen.
READER! if sound of hearty lung, or phthisical,
You smile, or cough, look gay, or grave, or rational; Dwell City-wise-or think the world of fashion all, And laugh at Cockney box on jaunty Chiswick mall; Deem not my little book severe and quizzical,
Or that I rudely lay the sportive lash on all.
And see themselves, for they have small opacity;
Empty profession; but, we shall not quarrel-
The Irish heart, when tried, will shine with bright redeeming.
THE Publishers having informed me that a Second Edition of this little Volume is at press, I gladly embrace the opportunity of returning my acknowledgments for the favourable reception it has experienced, and the indulgence with which it has been received.
As my gratitude is sincere, so must my thanks be simple. I have no critics to quarrel with, and complain of, to the public. I have, in short, only to regret one or two whimsical misprints in the former Edition, and which, I hope, I have pointed out in time sufficient to allow of the correction of them in the present one.
The Rosery, Barnes Common, Surrey,
26th June, 1832.
T. C. C.
"You have a large family, my good woman!' ""Tis I that have that same thin, yer honor, be the blessin' o' Providence. Chilther' comes as thick as poverty, most times, but, thank God! we've not known to say want, for 'tis seldom but we've a praty to put in their mouths; an' shoore 'tisn't the likes of us that could ixpect to be havin' mate onst a week like our betters. Though, may be, if we got a habit of atin' it, we'd think it hard to be widout it; so we would."
"How often do you get a joint of meat, pray?"
"Is it a jint o' mate, yer honor! The Lord be betune us an' all harum, where 'ud we cum be a jint o' mate? barrin' it may be a pig's head, or some small matter o' that kind, at