O make this condiment, your poet begs Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl, Back to the world he'd turn his fleeting soul, MR. SIMPKINSON (loquitur). WAS in Margate last July, I walk'd upon the pier, I saw a little vulgar Boy-I said, "What make you here?-The gloom upon your youthful cheek speaks anything but joy ;" Again I said, "What make you here, you little vulgar Boy?" He frown'd, that little vulgar Boy--he deem'd I meant to scoffAnd, when the little heart is big, a little "sets it off;" He put his finger in his mouth, his little bosom rose,— He had no little handkerchief to wipe his little nose! "Hark! don't you hear, my little man?-it's striking nine," I said, "An hour when all good little boys and girls should be in bed. Run home and get your supper, else your Ma' will scold-oh! fie!— It's very wrong indeed for little boys to stand and cry!" The tear-drop in his little eye again began to spring, His bosom throbb'd with agony- he cried like any thing! I stoop'd, and thus amidst his sobs I heard him murmur-“ Ah! I haven't got no supper and I haven't got no Ma'!— 66 My father, he is on the seas,-my mother's dead and gone! "If there's a soul will give me food, or find me in employ, "Cheer up! cheer up! my little man—cheer up!” I kindly said, "You are a naughty boy to take such things into your head : If you should jump from off the pier, you'd surely break your legs, Perhaps your neck-then Bogey 'd have you, sure as eggs are eggs! "Come home with me, my little man, come home with me and sup; I took him home to Number 2, the house beside" The Foy," And then I said to Mistress Jones, the kindest of her sex, 66 Pray be so good as go and fetch a pint of double X !" But Mrs. Jones was rather cross, she made a little noise, She with her apron wiped the plates, and, as she rubb’d the delf, 66 I did not go to Jericho I went to Mr. Cobb I changed a shilling-(which in town the people call" a Bob")— And I said, "A pint of double X, and please to draw it mild!” When I came back I gazed about-I gazed on stool and chair— I could not see my table-spoons-I look'd, but could not see -I could not see my sugar-tongs-my silver watch-oh, dear! I could not see my Mackintosh!-it was not to be seen! Nor yet my best white beaver hat, broad-brimm'd and lined with green; My carpet-bag, my cruet-stand, that holds my sauce and soy,— My roast potatoes !—all are gone!—and so's that vulgar Boy! I rang the bell for Mrs. Jones, for she was down below, "Oh, Mrs. Jones! what do you think?—ain't this a pretty go? -That horrid little vulgar Boy, whom I brought here to-night, ----He's stolen my things and run away!"-Says she, " And sarve you right!" * Next morning I was up betimes-I sent the Crier round, I went to" Jarvis' Landing-place," the glory of the town, I told my tale-he seem'd to think I'd not been treated well, That sailor-man, he said he'd seen that morning on the shore, with green. He spoke about his "precious eyes," and said he'd seen him "sheer,” -It's odd that sailor-men should talk so very queer— very And then he hitch'd his trowsers up, as is, I'm told, their use, I did not understand him well, but think he meant to say A landsman said, "I twig the chap-he's been upon the Mill— I went and told the constable my property to track; I answer'd, "To be sure I do!-it's what I come about." He smiled and said, "Sir, does your mother know that you are out?" Not knowing what to do, I thought I'd hasten back to town, But he "rather thought that there were several vulgar boys about." |