So like an arrow swift he flew,
Shot by an archer strong;
So did he fly-which brings me to
The middle of my song.

Away went Gilpin, out of breath,
And sore against his will,
Till at his friend's the calender's
His horse at last stood still.

The calender amazed to see

His neighbour in such trim,
Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate,
And thus accosted him :

"What news! what news! your tidings tell, Tell me you must and shallSay why bare-headed you are come

Or why you come at all?"

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit
And loved a timely joke!
And thus unto the calender
In merry guise he spoke :

"I came because your horse would come;
And if I well forebode,
My hat and wig will soon be here,
They are upon the road."

The calender, right glad to find
His friend in merry pin,
Returned him not a single word,

But to the house went in;

Whence straight he came with hat and wig,

A wig that flowed behind,

A hat not much the worse for wear,

Each comely in its kind.

He held them up, and in his turn
Thus showed his ready wit :
"My head is twice as big as yours,
They therefore needs must fit.

"But let me scrape the dirt away
That hangs upon your face;
And stop and eat, for well you may
Be in a hungry case.

Said John, "It is my wedding day;
And all the world would stare,
If wife should dine at Edmonton,
And I should dine at Ware."

So turning to his horse he said, "I am in haste to dine:

"Twas for your pleasure you came here, You shall go back for mine."

Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast!
For which he paid full dear;
For while he spake a braying ass
Did sing most loud and clear.

Whereat his horse did snort, as he
Had heard a lion roar;
And galloped off with all his might,
As he had done before.

Away went Gilpin, and away
Went Gilpin's hat and wig:
He lost them sooner than at first,
For why? they were too big.

Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw

Her husband posting down

Into the country far away,

She pulled out half-a-crown:

And thus unto the youth she said
That drove them to the Bell,

"This shall be yours when you bring back My husband safe and well."

The youth did ride, and soon did meet
John coming back amain,
Whom in a trice he tried to stop
By catching at his rein;

But not performing what he meant,
And gladly would have done,
The frightened steed he frighted more,
And made him faster run.

Away went Gilpin, and away
Went post-boy at his heels,

The post-boy's horse right glad to miss
The lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With post-boy scamp'ring in the rear,
They raised a hue and cry:

"Stop thief! stop thief!--a highwayman!"

Not one of them was mute;
And all and each that passed that way.
Did join in the pursuit.

And now the turnpike gates again

Flew open in short space; The toll-men thinking as before,

That Gilpin rode a race.

And so he did, and won it too,

For he got first to town,

Nor stopped till where he first got up
He did again get down.

Now let us sing, "Long live the king!"
And Gilpin long live he;

And when he next doth ride abroad,

May I be there to see!

MRS. BROWN'S VOTE SOLICITED.

ARTHUR SKETCHLEY.

I'm sure the 'eat as I was in, and that grimed as any one might have took me for a sweep's good lady, thro' it bein' of a Friday, when I will have 'em, as is all very well with their rammeners, as they calls them, tho' nothing in my opinion like the boys, as could go into the corners, where it will lodge, as is dangerous and apt to ketch and bring the ingins on to you in no time, as is a heavy sum to pay, especial when prepared to swear as you've been swep' within six weeks, and I was a-saying to Mrs. Challin, as is a 'ard-working woman, tho' not to be trusted with sperrits about, as I'd go and clean myself up a bit; "for," I says, "I never can fancy my meals, and take tea as I am, couldn't was it ever so. I don't think as I'd hardly got my gown off afore I hears Mrs. Challin a-hollarin', as is that deaf as posts is nothing to it.

So thinking as she was a-wanting to know how much milk as she should take, thro' hearing it a-comin' down the street, I puts my head over the bannisters for to say make it a pen'orth, when figure as I was there was two gentlemen a-standin' a-talking to Mrs. Challin, as kep answerin' foolish thro' not a-hearin'.

So I says to myself, "P'raps it's the lawyers," as never will let us rest thro' Brown's aunt, as was thought to have died intestines, tho' the will was quite safe in her corner drawers, tho' wrapped in a old handkercher.

I says to myself, "I shan't hurry for you," so give myself a good wash, and got my 'air on with a clean cap and apron, and down I goes, fully expecting them

to have gone, as the sayin' is, when there they was asetting like lambs.

So I says, "Your pleasure, gentlemen," for I see as they wasn't lawyers' clerks by their ways, as was elegant; for up they gets and a-bowing, bending I may say. "Have we the pleasure to address Mrs. Brown?" says they.

I says, "I am that party, at your service," for I knows how to address them as is on a spear above, thro' having lived in families as was so situated.

So they says as the weather was fine, as I said it were, and they asks after Mr. Brown's health, "As," I says, "is not what I could wish, thro' a nasty cough, as he says is nothing, but just sich a one as my own grandfather carried to his grave with him, and always said it would be his end, as it turned out at eightysix, and had troubled him nearly forty years; so I always says it did ought to be took in time, as horehound tea, with alicumpane powder, a bit of horseradish, and sweetened with treacle, softens the chest, and will often bring it away."

"And how is your 'ealth, Mrs. Brown, mum ?" says the other, as was short, with red whiskers, thro' the other party being a fine man, with a expanding chest as would show a frill well.

"Why," I says, "I can't say much, tho' I keeps up, but often with a aching back, for stooping does try me a good deal, and I often feels if it wasn't for Brown, as would miss me, I ain't much to live for."

And so I tells the gentlemen, as smiled agreeable, and says "Mrs. Brown, mum, you're in your prime."

I

says, "Go along; I'm the grandmother of six." Says they, "Never."

I says, "I am."

Then says they, "You must a-married in your tins," as I didn't know what they meant.

At last the little chap with the red whiskers says, "Madam," he 66 says, we've called for to solicit Mr. Brown's vote for this gentleman," and he hands me a card, as I couldn't read without my glasses.