THE REVEREND
MICAH SOWLS

TH

HE REVEREND MICAH SOWLS,
He shouts, and yells, and howls,
He screams, he mouths, he bumps,
He foams, he rants, he thumps.

His armor he has buckled on to wage
The regulation war against the Stage;
And warns his congregation all to shun
"The Presence Chamber of the Evil One."

The subject's sad enough

To make him rant and puff,
And fortunately, too,

His Bishop's in a pew.

SO REVEREND MICAH claps on extra steam,
His eyes are flashing with superior gleam,
He is as energetic as can be,

For there are

fatter livings in

that see.

The Bishop, when it's o'er,
Goes through the vestry door
Where MICAH, very red,
Is mopping of his head.

"Pardon, my Lord, your SowLs' excessive zeal, It is a theme on which I strongly feel." (The sermon somebody had sent him down From London, at a charge of half-a-crown.)

The Bishop bowed his head
And acquiescing, said,

I've heard your well-meant rage
Against the Modern Stage.

"A modern Theatre, as I heard you say,
Sows seeds of evil broadcast: well, it may -
But let me ask you, my respected son,
Pray, have you ever

ventured into one?"

My goodness gracious, nay!"

The worthy Bishop said, "My friend, no doubt
The stage may be the place you make it out;
But if, my REVerend Sowls, you never go,
I don't quite understand how you're to know."

"Well, really," MICAH said,
"I've often heard and read,
But never go do you?"
The Bishop said, “I do.”

" said MICAH, in a

"That proves me wrong,'

trice;

"I thought it all frivolity and vice."
The Bishop handed him a counter plain;
"Just take this stall and go to Drury Lane."

The Bishop took his leave,
Rejoicing in his sleeve.
The next ensuing day

SowLs went and heard a play.

He saw a dreary person on the stage,

For ""

And

Who

had never

heard.

growled
and

spluttered
in a mode
absurd,

gaunt wast spoken "garnt," haunt" transformed to "harnt,"

And wrath " pronounced as

“rath,”

And "death" was changed to "dath.”

For hours and hours that dismal actor walked

And talked, and talked, and talked, and talked, Till lethargy upon the parson crept,

And sleepy MICAH SOWLS serenely slept.

He slept away until

The farce that closed the bill

Had warned him not

to stay,

And then he went

away.

"I thought," said he, " I
was a dreary thing,

I thought my voice quite destitute of ring,
I thought my ranting could distract the brain,
But oh! I had n't been to Drury Lane.

A DISCONTENTED
SUGAR BROKER

A

GENTLEMAN of City fame Now claims your kind attention; East India broking was his game, His name I shall not mention : No one of finely pointed sense Would violate a confidence, And shall I go

And do it? No!

His name I shall not mention.

He had a trusty wife and true,
And very cozy quarters,
A manager, a boy or two,
Six clerks, and seven porters.
A broker must be doing well
(As any lunatic can tell)
Who can employ

An active boy,

Six clerks and seven porters.

His knocker advertised no dun,
No losses made him sulky,
He had one sorrow - only one-
He was extremely bulky.