sitting, there are clubs composed of the members of the commons, where most affairs are digested before they are brought into

the house.

"AS DRUNK AS DAVID'S SOW."

A few years ago, one David Lloyd, a Welchman, who kept an inn at Hereford, had a living sow with six legs, which occasioned great resort to the house. David also had a wife who was much addicted to drunkenness, and for which he used frequently to bestow on her an admonitory drubbing. One day, having taken an extra cup which operated in a powerful manner, and dreading the usual consequences, she opened the stye-door, let out David's sow, and lay down in its place, hoping that a short unmolested nap would sufficiently dispel the fumes of the liquor. In the mean time, however, a company arrived to view the so much talked of animal; and Davy, proud of his office, ushered them to the stye, exclaiming, "Did any of you ever see such a creature before?"" Indeed, Davy," said oue of the farmers, "I never before saw a sow so drunk as thine in all my life!"— Hence the term "as drunk as David's Sow."

No freehold property--no copyhold property—no leasehold property. In fact, no property at all! I live by my wits, as one half of the world live, and am therefore NOT qualified. GASPARD.

Suburban Sonnets.

I.

ISLINGTON.

Thy fields, fair Islington! begin to bear

Unwelcome buildings, and unseemly piles;

The streets are spreading, and the Lord knows where

Improvement's hand will spare the neighb'ring stiles: The rural blandishments of Maiden Lane

Are ev'ry day becoming less and less,

While kilns and lime roads force us to complain

Of nuisances time only can suppress..
A few more years, and COPENHAGEN HOUSE

Shall cease to charm the tailor and the snob;
And where attornies' clerks in smoke carouse,
Regardless wholly of to-morrow's job,
Some Claremont Row, or Prospect Place shall rise,
Or terrace, p'rhaps, misnomer'd PARADISE !

II.

HAGBUSH LANE.

Poor HAGBUSH LANE ! thy ancient charms are going
To rack and ruin fast as they can go;
And where but lately many a flow'r was growing,
Nothing shall shortly be allow'd to grow!
Thy humble cottage, where as yet they sell

No "nut-brown ale," or luscious Stilton cheeseWhere dusky gipsies in the summer dwell,

And donkey drivers fight their dogs at ease, Shall feel ere long the lev'lling hand of taste, If that be taste which darkens ev'ry field;

Thy garden too shall likewise be displac'd,

And no more" cabbage" to its master yield;

But, in its stead, some new Vauxhall perchance

Shall rise, renown'd for pantomime and dance !

III. HIGHGATE.

Already, HIGHGATE to thy skirts they bear Bricks, mortar, timber, in no small degree, And thy once pure, exhilarating air

Is growing pregnant with impurity! The would-be merchant has his "country box" A few short measures from the dusty road, Where friends on Sunday talk about the stocks Or praise the beauties of his "neat abode :" One deems the wall-flow'r garden, in the front, Unrivall'd for each aromatic bed; Another fancies that his old sow's grunt "Is so much like the country," and instead Of living longer down in Crooked-lane, Resolves, at once, to "ruralize" again! Islington.

J. Q.

On the west side of Hampstead, in the middle of one of the pleasant meadows called Shepherd's fields, at the left-hand of the footpath going from Belsize-house towards the church, this arch, embedded above and around by the green turf, forms a conduit-head to a beautiful spring: the specific gravity of the fluid, which yields several tuns a day, is little more than that of distilled water. Hampstead abounds in other springs, but they are mostly impregnated with mineral substances. The water of "Shepherd's well," therefore, is in continual request, and those who cannot otherwise conveniently obtain it, are supplied through a few of the villagers, who make a scanty living by carrying it to houses for a penny a pail-full. There is no carriage-way to TOL. I.-13.

the spot, and these poor things have mucn hard work for a very little money.

I first knew this spring in my childhood, when domiciled with a relation, who then occupied Belsize-house, by being allowed to go with Jeff the under-gardener, whose duty it was to fetch water from the spring. As I accompanied him, so a tame magpie accompanied me: Jeff slouched on with his pails and yoke, and my ardour to precede was restrained by fear of some if happening to Mag if I did not .ook after the rogue. He was a wayward bird, the first to follow wherever I went, but always according to his own fashion; he never put forth his speed till he found himself a long way behind, so that Jeff always led the van, and Mag always brought up

the rear, making up for long lagging by long hopping. On one occasion, however, as soon as we got out of the side-door from the out-house yard into Belsize-lane, Mag bounded across the road, and over the wicket along the meadows, with quick and long hops, throwing "side-long looks behind," as if deriding my inability to keep up with him, till he reached the well: there we both waited for Jeff, who for once was last, and, on whose arrival, the bird took his station on the crown of the arch, looking alternately down to the well and up at Jeff It was a sultry day in a season of drought, and, to Jeff's surprise, the water was not easily within reach; while he was making efforts with the bucket, Mag seemed deeply interested in the experiment, and flitted about with tiresome assiduity. In a moment Jeff rose in a rage, execrated poor Mag, On and vowed cruel vengeance on him. our way home the bird preceded, and Jeff, to my continual alarm in behalf of Mag, several times stopped, and threw stones at him with great violence. It was not till we were housed, that the man's anger was sufficiently appeased to let him acquaint me with its cause: and then I learned that Mag was a "wicked bird," who knew of the low water before he set out, and was delighted with the mischief. From that day, Jeff hated him, and tried to maim him the creature's sagacity in eluding his brutal intent, he imputed to diabolical knowledge; and, while my estimation of Jeff as a good-natured fellow was considerably shaken, I acquired a secret fear of poor Mag. This was my first acquaintance with the superstitious and dangerous feelings of ignorance.

The water of Shepherd's well is remarkable for not being subject to freeze. There is another spring sometimes resorted to near Kilburn, but this and the ponds in the Vale of Health are the ordinary sources of public supply to Hampstead. The chief inconvenience of habitations in this delightful village is the inadequate distribution of good water. Occasional visitants, for the sake of health, frequently sustain considerable injury by the insalubrity of private springs, and charge upon the fluid they breathe the mischiefs they derive from the fluid they drink. The localities of the place afford almost every variety of aspect and temperature that invalids require: and a constant sufficiency of wholesome water might be easily obtained by a few simple arrange

ments.

March 19, 1827.

Garrick Plays.

No. X.

other,

And now would'st make me think they are thy own.

Crip. Why, think'st thou that I cannot write a Letter, Ditty, or Sonnet, with judicial phrase, As pretty, pleasing, and pathetical, As the best Ovid-imitating dunce

In the whole town?

Frank. I think thou can'st not. Crip. Yea, I'll swear I cannot. Yet, Sirrah, I could coney-catch the world, Make myself famous for a sudden wit, And be admired for my dexterity, Were I disposed.

Frank. I prithee, how?

Crip. Why, thus. There lived a Poet in this town,
(If we may term our modern writers Poets),
Sharp-witted, bitter-tongued; his pen, of steel;
His ink was temper'd with the biting juice
And extracts of the bitterest weeds that grew;
He never wrote but when the elements
Of fire and water tilted in his brain.
This fellow, ready to give up is ghost
To Lucia's bosom, did bequeath to me
His Library, which was just nothing
But rolls, and scrolls, and bundles of cast wit,
Such as durst never visit Paul's Church Yard.
Amongst 'em all I lighted on a quire

Or two of paper, fill'd with Songs and Ditties,
And here and there a hungry Epigram;
These I reserve to my own proper use,
And Pater-noster-like have conn'd them all.

I could now, when I am in company,
At ale-house, tavern, or an ordinary,
Upon a theme make an extemporal ditty
(Or one at least should seem extemporal),
Out of the abundance of this Legacy,
That all would judge it, and report it too,
To be the infant of a sudden wit,
And then were I an admirable fellow.

Frank. This were a piece of cunning.

Crip. I could do more; for I could make enquiry,
Where the best-witted gallants use to dine,
Follow them to the tavern, and there sit

In the next room with a calve's head and brimstone,
And over-hear their talk, observe their humours,
Collect their jests, put them into a play,
And tire them too with payment to behold
What I have filch'd from them. This I could do

But O for shame that man should so arraign Their own fee-simple wits for verbal theft! Yet men there be that have done this and that, And more by much more than the most of them.

After this Specimen of the pleasanter vein of Heywood, I am tempted to extract some lines from his "Hierarchie of Angels, 1634;" not strictly as a Dramatic Poem, but because the passage contains a string of names, all but that of Watson, his contemporary Dramatists. He is complaining in a mood half serious, half comic, of the disrespect which Poets in his own times meet with from the world, compared with the honors paid them by Antiquity. Then they could afford them three or four sonorous names, and at full length; as to Ovid, the addition of Publius Naso Sulmensis; to Seneca, that of Lucius Annæas Cordubensis; and the like. Now, says he,

Our modern Poets to that pass are driven,
Those names are curtail'd which they first had given;
And, as we wish'd to have their memories drown'd,
We scarcely can afford them half their sound.
Greene, who had in both Academies ta'en
Degree of Master, yet could never gain

To be call'd more than Robin: who, had he
Profest ought save the Muse, served, and been free
After a sev'n years prenticeship, might have
(With credit too) gone Robert to his grave.
Marlowe, renown'd for his rare art and wit,
Could ne'er attain beyond the name of Kit;
Although his Hero and Leander did
Merit addition rather. Famous Kid

Was call'd but Tom. Tom Watson; though he wrote
Able to make Apollo's self to dote

Upon his Muse; for all that he could strive,

Yet never could to his full name arrive.
Tom Nash (in his time of no small esteem)
Could not a second syllable redeem.
Excellent Beaumont, in the foremost rank
Of the rarest wits, was never more than Frank.
Mellifluous SHAKSPEARE, whose inchanting quill
Commanded mirth or passion, was but WILL;

The fall title of this Play is "The Fair Maid of the Exchange, with the humours of the Cripple of Fenchurch." The above Satire against some Dramatic Plagiarists of the time, is put into the mouth of the Cripple, who is an excellent fellow, and the Hero of the Comedy. Of his humour this extract is a sufficient specimen; but he is described (albeit a tradesman, yet wealthy withal) with heroic qualities of mind and body, the latter of which he evinces by rescuing his Mistress (the Fair Maid) from three robbers by the main force of one crutch lustily applied; and the former by his foregoing the advantages which this action gained him in her good opinion, and bestowing his wit and finesse in procuring for her a husband, in the person of his friend Golding, more worthy of her beauty, than he could conceive his own maimed and halting limbs to be. It would require some boldness in a dramatist now-a-days to exhibit such a Character; and some luck in finding a sufficient Actor, who would be willing to personate the infirmities, together with the virtues, of the Noble Cripple.

And famous Jonson, though his learned pen
Be dipt in Castaly, is still but Ben.
Fletcher, and Webster, of that learned pack
None of the meanest, neither was but Jack;
Decker but Tom; nor May, nor Middleton;

And he's now but Jack Ford, that once were John.

Possibly our Poet was a little sore, that this contemptuous curtailment of their Baptismal Names was chiefly exercised upon his Poetical Brethren of the Drama. We hear nothing about Sam Daniel, or Ned Spenser, in his catalogue. The familiarity of common discourse might probably take the greater liberties with the Dramatic Poets, as conceiving of them as more upon a level with the Stage Actors. Or did their greater publicity, and popularity in consequence, fasten these diminutives upon them out of a feeling of love and kindness; as we say Harry the Fifth, rather than Henry, when we would express good will? -as himself says, in those reviving words put into his mouth by Shakspeare, where he would comfort and confirm his doubting brothers:

Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds,
But Harry Harry!

And doubtless Heywood had an indistinct conception of this truth, when (coming to his own name), with that beautiful retracting which is natural to one that, not Satirically given, has wandered a little out of his way into something recriminative, he goes on to say:

Nor speak I this, that any here exprest

Should think themselves less worthy than the rest
Whose names have their full syllables and sound;
Or that Frank, Kit, or Jack, are the least wound
Unto their fame and merit. I for
my part
(Think others what they please) accept that heart,
Which courts my love in most familiar phrase;
And that it takes not from my pains or praise,
any one to me so bluntly come:

If

I hold he loves me best that calls me Tom.

These little blemishes kill such delicate things: prose feeds on grosser punctualities. Will the reader be pleased to make the above corrections with a pen, and allow the fact of illness in excuse for editorial mischance?

SNUFF AND TOBACCO.

For the Table Book.

In the year 1797 was circulated the following :

PROPOSALS for Publishing by Subscription, a HISTORY OF SNUFF AND TOBACCO, in two Volumes.

Vol. I. to contain a Description of the Nose-Size of Noses-A Digression on Roman Noses-Whether long Noses are symptomatic-Origin of Tobacco-Tobacco first manufactured into Snuff-Enquiry who took the first Pinch-Essay on Sneezing-Whether the ancients sneezed, and at what-Origin of Pocket-handkerchiefsDiscrimination between Snuffing and taking Snuff; the former applied only to Candles-Parliamentary Snufftakers - Troubles in the time of Charles the First, as connected with Smoking.

Vol. II. Snufftakers in the Parliamentary army-Wit at a Pinch-Oval Snuffboxes first used by the Round-headsManufacture of Tobacco Pipes-Dissertation on Pipe Clay-State of Snuff during the Commonwealth-The Union-Scotch Snuff first introduced-found very pungent and penetrating-Accession of George the Second-Snuff-boxes then made of Gold and Silver-George the Third-Scotch Snuff first introduced at Court-The Queen -German Snuffs in fashion-Female Snufftakers-Clean Tuckers, &c. &c.-Index and List of Subscribers.

In connection with this subject I beg to mention an anecdote, related to me by an old Gentleman who well remembered the circumstance :

"When every Shopkeeper had a Sign hanging out before his door, a Dealer in Snuff and Tobacco on Fish St.eet Hill, carried on a large rade, especially in Tobacco, for nis Shop was greatly frequented by Sailors from the Ships in the River. In the course of time, a Person of the name of Farr opened a Shop nearly opposite, and hung out his Sign inscribed 'The best Tobacco by Furr. This (like the Shoemaker's inscription, Adam Strong Shoemaker,' so

And if the blind god, Cupid,

Should strike you to the heart, man, Take up a glass, and toast your lassAnd-ne'er from smoking part, man! 7.

And also if you're married,

In Hymen's chains fast bound, man; To plague your wife out of her life, Smoke still the whole year round, man! 8.

How sweet 'tis of an evening

When wint'ry winds do low, man, As 'twere in spite, to take a pipe, And smoke by th' fire's glow, man!