Leech. Athens ?

Sir C. A bad Edinburgh!

Sav. Egypt?

Sir C. A desert!

Leech. The Pyramids ?

Sir C. Humbugs!—nothing in any of them! -you bore me.

Have done

Leech. But you enjoyed the hours we spent in Paris, at any rate?

Sir C. No; I was dying for excitement. In fact, I 've no appetite, no thirst; everything wearies me-no, they fatigue

me.

Leech. Fatigue you!-I should think not, indeed; you are as strong as a lion.

Sir C. But as quiet as a lamb-that was Tom Cribb's character of me: you know I was a favorite pupil of his. I'd give a thousand pounds for any event that would make my pulse beat ten to the minute faster.-Is it possible, that between you both you cannot invent something that would make my blood boil in my veins,-my hair stand on end—my heart beat my pulse rise-that would produce an excitement-an emotion-a sensation!

THE REJECTED.-T. H. BAYLEY.

NOT have me! Not love me! Oh, what have I said?
Sure, never was lover so strangely misled.

Rejected and just when I hoped to be blessed!
You can't be in earnest! It must be a jest.

Remember-remember how often I've knelt,
Explicitly telling you all that I felt,

And talked about poison in accents so wild,
So very like torture, you started-and smiled.

Not have me! Not love me! Oh, what have I done?

All natural nourishment did I not shun?

My figure is wasted; my spirits are lost;

And my eyes are deep sunk, like the eyes of a ghost.

Remember, remember-ay, madam, you must

I once was exceedingly stout and robust;
I rode by your palfrey, I came at your call,
And nightly went with you to banquet and ball.

Not have me! Not love me! Rejected! Refused!
Sure, never was lover so strangely ill-used!
Consider my presents-I don't mean to boast-
But, madam, consider the money they cost!

Remember you 've worn them; and just can it be

To take all my trinkets, and not to take me ?

Nay, don't throw them at me!-You 'll break-do not start-
I don't mean my gifts-but you will break my heart!

Not have me! Not love me! Not go to the church!
Sure, never was lover so left in the lurch!
My brain is distracted, my feelings are hurt;
Oh, madam, don't tempt me to call you a flirt.

Remember my letters; my passion they told;
Yes, all sorts of letters, save letters of gold;
The amount of my notes, too—the notes that I penned-
Not bank notes-no, truly, I had none to send !

Not have me! Not love me!

And is it, then, true

That opulent Age is the lover for you?

'Gainst rivalry's bloom I would strive 'tis too much
To yield to the terrors of rivalry's crutch.

Remember-remember I might call him out;
But, madam, you are not worth fighting about;
My sword shall be stainless in blade and in hilt;
I thought you a jewel-I find you a jilt.
10*

THE GOUTY MERCHANT.-HORACE SMITH

IN Broad street buildings, on a winter night,
Snug by his parlor fire, a gouty wight

Sat, all alone, with one hand rubbing
His feet, rolled up in fleecy hose;

With t'other he 'd beneath his nose

The Public Ledger, in whose columns grubbing,
He noted all the sales of hops,
Ships, shops and slops,

Gums, galls and groceries, ginger, gin,
Tar, tallow, tumeric, turpentine and tin;
When, lo! a decent personage in black
Entered, and most politely said-'

"Your footman, sir, has gone his nightly track
To the King's Head,

And left your door ajar, which I

Observed in passing by,

And thought it neighborly to give you notice." "Ten thousand thanks!" the gouty man replied; "You see, good sir, how to my chair I 'm tied ;Ten thousand thanks! How very few get, In time of danger,

Such kind attentions from a stranger!

Assuredly that footman's throat is

Doomed to a final drop at Newgate;

And he well knows (the heedless elf!)
That there's no soul at home except myself."
"Indeed!" replied the stranger, looking grave;
Then he's a double knave:

He knows that rogues and thieves, by scores,
Nightly beset unguarded doors;

And see, how easily might one

Of these domestic foes,

Even beneath your very nose,

Perform his knavish tricks;

Enter your room, as I have done;

Blow out your candles-thus, and thus—
Pocket your silver candlesticks,

And walk off-thus!"

So said, so done;—he made no more remark
Nor waited for replies,

But marched off with his prize,
Leaving the gouty merchant in the dark!

RAILWAY MANIA.-ANON.

AH! raillery once was all the go,
We could endure men's banter,
But that was when a plain "Gee wo!"
A race run in a canter.

Now canter will not do at all,

Jog-trot is out of fashion; And even a gallop at the full Puts people in a passion.

The rail! the rail! it's all the rail

When people are departing,

They're wretched (n'importe how they're train'd)

Till in a train for starting.

The rail the rail! no slow-coach now!
The horse that drew the cart O!
Neighs as the engine draws the train,
Nay "here's a pretty start O!"

All agriculture 's at a stand,

The railway laborers floor 'em,
For railway shares now plough the land,
Which ploughshares ploughed before 'em.

'Twas very irksome once to dig,

Now irksomeness is o'er,

For people see a tunnel plain,
And don't think it a bore!

The railway mania so pervades
All classes of the nation,

That some, before they 'd lose their rail,
Would rather lose their station,

And yet men are so very fast-
All drivers and no creepers !—
The tradesmen get so wide awake
When they contract for sleepers !

And mark you, when the contract's made,
(Brave Commerce! Heav'n defend her?)

They do not send the Engine in,

But they do send in the Tender!

The schoolmaster was once abroad,
Him now the railway passes;
For by the Mass-he sorts the Mass
Like school-boys into classes.

Degrade you once from class the first,
Then if you 've badly reckon'd,
He'll teach you soon that class the third
Is worse than class the second!

Now share-holders are all the go,
Most brave of undertakers!
'Tis quite a treat to see how sweet
The Brokers are on Breakers.

Oh! how in speculation, now,
Both high and low take trip-
The gentlemen get in the stocks!
The beggars have their scrip!

In Germany whole herds of deer
Were murder'd by the wags;