Well, that's the row

and who can guess the upshot

after all?

Whether Harmony will ever make the "Arms" her House of call,

Or whether this here mobbing as some longish heads foretell it,

Will grow to such a riot that the Oxford Blues must quell it,

Howsomever, for the present, there's no sign of any

peace,

For the hubbub keeps a growing, and defies the New Police;

But if I was in the Vestry, and a leading sort of Man, Or a Member of the Vocals, to get backers for my

plan,

Why, I'd settle all the squabble in the twinkle of a

needle,

For I'd have another candidate and that's the Parish

Beadle,

Who makes such lots of Poetry, himself, or else by

proxy,

And no one never has no doubts about his ortho

doxy;

Whereby if folks was wise instead of either of them Scholars,

And straining their own lungs along of contradictious

hollers,

They'll lend their ears to reason, and take my advice aș

follers,

Namely - Bumble for the Chairman of the Glorious Apollers!

ETCHING MORALIZED.

TO A NOBLE LADY.

"To point a moral."- JOHNSON.

FAIREST Lady and Noble, for once on a time,
Condescend to accept, in the humblest of rhyme,
And a style more of Gay than of Milton,
A few opportune verses designed to impart
Some didactical hints in a Needlework Art,

Not described by the Countess of Wilton.

An Art not unknown to the delicate hand
Of the fairest and first in this insular land,
But in Patronage Royal delighting;

And which now your own feminine fantasy wins,
Though it scarce seems a lady-like work that begins
In a scratching and ends in a biting!

Yet, O! that the dames of the Scandalous School
Would but use the same acid, and sharp-pointed tool,
That are plied in the said operations

O! would that our Candors on copper would sketch!
For the first of all things in beginning to etch
Are-good grounds for our representations.

Those protective and delicate coatings of wax,
Which are meant to resist the corrosive attacks
That would ruin the copper completely;

Thin cerements which whoso remembers the Bee,
So applauded by Watts, the divine LL. D.,
Will be careful to spread very neatly.

For why? like some intricate deed of the law,
Should the ground in the process be left with a flaw,

Aquafortis is far from a joker ;

And attacking the part that no coating protects
Will turn out as distressing to all your effects
As a landlord who puts in a broker.

Then carefully spread the conservative stuff,
Until all the bright metal is covered enough
To repel a destructive so active

For in Etching, as well as in Morals, pray note
That a little raw spot, or a hole in a coat,
Your ascetics find vastly attractive.

Thus the ground being laid, very even and flat,
And then smoked with a taper, till black as a hat,
Still from future disasters to screen it,

Just allow me, by way of precaution, to state,

You must hinder the footman from changing your plate, Nor yet suffer the butler to clean it.

Nay, the housemaid, perchance, in her passion to scrub,
May suppose the dull metal in want of a rub,

Like the Shield which Swift's readers remember
Not to mention the chance of some other mishaps,
Such as having your copper made up into caps
To be worn on the First of September.

But aloof from all damage by Betty or John,
You secure the veiled surface, and trace thereupon
The design you conceive the most proper:

Yet gently, and not with a needle too keen,

Lest it pierce to the wax through the paper between,
And of course play Old Scratch with the copper.

So in worldly affairs, the sharp-practising man
Is not always the one who succeeds in his plan,
Witness Shylock's judicial exposure ;

Who, as keen as his knife, yet with agony found,
That while urging his point he was losing his ground,
And incurring a fatal disclosure.

But, perhaps, without tracing at all, you may choose
To indulge in some little extempore views,

Like the older artistical people ;

For example, a Corydon playing his pipe,
In a Low Country Marsh, with a Cow after Cuyp,
And a Goat skipping over a steeple.

A wild Deer at a rivulet taking a sup,
With a couple of Pillars put in to fill up,

Like the columns of certain diurnals;

Or a very brisk sea, in a very stiff gale,
And a very Dutch boat, with a very big sail
Or a bevy of Retzsch's Infernals.

Architectural study — or rich Arabesque
Allegorical dream or a view picturesque,
Near to Naples, or Venice, or Florence;
Or "as harmless as lambs and as gentle as doves,"
A sweet family cluster of plump little Loves,

Like the Children by Reynolds or Lawrence.

But whatever the subject, your exquisite taste
Will insure a design very charming and chaste,

Like yourself, full of nature and beauty --
Yet besides the good points you already reveal,
You will need a few others of well-tempered steel,
And especially formed for the duty.

For suppose that the tool be imperfectly set,
Over many weak lengths in your line you will fret,
Like a pupil of Walton and Cotton

Who remains by the brink of the water, agape,

While the jack, trout, or barbel, effects its escape
Through the gut or silk line being rotten.

Therefore let the steel point be set truly and round,
That the finest of strokes may be even and sound,
Flowing glibly where fancy would lead 'em.
But, alas for the needle that fetters the hand,
And forbids even sketches of Liberty's land
To be drawn with the requisite freedom!

O! the botches I've seen by a tool of the sort,
Rather hitching, than etching, and making, in short,
Such stiff, crabbed, and angular scratches,

That the figures seemed statues or mummies from tombs,
While the trees were as rigid as bundles of brooms,
And the herbage like bunches of matches!

The stiff clouds as if carefully ironed and starched,
While a cast-iron bridge, meant for wooden, o'er-arched
Something more like a road than a river.

Prithee, who in such characteristics could see
Any trace of the beautiful land of the free

The Free-Mason - Free-Trader
Free-Trader - Free-Liver!

But prepared by a hand that is skilful and nice,
The fine point glides along like a skate on the ice,
At the will of the Gentle Designer,

Who impelling the needle just presses so much,
That each line of her labor the copper may touch,
As if done by a penny-a-liner.

And, behold! how the fast-growing images gleam!
Like the sparkles of gold in a sunshiny stream,
Till, perplexed by the glittering issue,

You repine for a light of a tenderer kind -
And in choosing a substance for making a blind,

Do not sneeze at the paper called tissue.