indeed, it seems, but more proud than poor, and more honest than proud. Fre. That sounds like a noble character. Sir R. And so he sends to me for assistance? Dob. He'd see you hanged first! Harrowby says, he'd sooner die than ask any man for a shilling. There's his daughter, and his dead wife's aunt, and an old corporal that has served in the wars with him; he keeps them all upon his half-pay. Sir R. Starves them all, I am afraid, Humphrey. Fre. (Crossing.) Uncle, good morning. Sir R. Where are you running now? Fre. To talk to Lieutenant Worthington. Sir R. And what may you be going to say to him? Fre. I can't tell till I encounter him; and then, uncle, when I have an old gentleman by the hand, who is disabled in his country's service, and struggling to support his motherless child, a poor relation, and a faithful servant, in honorable indigence, impulse will supply me with words to express my sentiments. (Hurrying off. Sir R. Stop, you rogue !—I must be before you in this business. Fre. That depends upon who can run fastest. So start fair, uncle; and here goes! (Exit hastily. Sir R. Stop! why, Frederick !-A jackanapes! to take my department out of my hands! I'll disinherit the dog for his assurance! Dob. No you won't. Sir R. Won't I? Hang me, if I—but we'll argue that point as we go. Come along, Humphrey ! (Exeunt. ART OF BOOK-KEEPING.-HOOD. How hard, when those who do not wish to lend, thus lose, their books, Are snared by anglers,-folks that fish with literary Hooks, Who call and take some favorite tome, but never read it through ; They thus complete their set at home, by making one at you. I, of my "Spenser" quite bereft, last winter sore was shaken; Of "Lamb" I've but a quarter left, nor could I save my "Bacon"; And then I saw my" Crabbe" at last, like Hamlet, backward go; And, as the tide was ebbing fast, of course I lost my "Rowe”. MyMallet" served to knock me down which makes me thus a talker; And once when I was out of town, my "Johnson" proved a "Walker". While studying o'er the fire one day, my "Hobbes", amidst the smoke, They bore (( my Colman" clean away, and carried off my They picked my "Locke", to me far more than Bramah's ent worth, And now my losses I deplore, without a pat Home" on earth. If once a book you let them lift, another they conceal, For though I caught them stealing "Swift", as swiftly went my "Steele". Hope" is not now upon my shelf, where late he stood elated; But what is strange, my "Pope" himself is excommunicated. My little "Suckling" in the grave is sunk to swell the ravage ; And what was Crusoe's fate to save, 'twas mine to lose,—a "Savage". Even "Glover's" works I cannot put my frozen hands upon, Though ever since I lost my " Foot", my " Bunyan", has been gone. My "Hoyle" with Cotton" went oppressed; my "Taylor" too, must fail; To save my "Bayle". "Goldsmith" from arrest, in vain I offered I Prior sought, but could not see the "Hood" so late in front; And when I turned to hunt for "Lee", O! where was my "Leigh Hunt" ? I tried to laugh, old care to tickle, yet could not "Tickle" touch; And then, alack! I missed my "Mickle";-and surely Mickle's much. 'Tis quite enough my griefs to feed, my sorrows to excuse, To think I cannot read my 66 Hughes"; 'Reid", nor even use my My classics would not quiet lie, a thing so fondly hoped; My life is ebbing fast away; I suffer from these shocks, locks; I'm far from “Young", am growing pale, I see my "Butler" fly; And when they ask about my ail, 'tis "Burton" I reply. They still have made me slight returns, and thus my griefs divide ; For O! they cured me of my "Burns", and eased my "Aken side". But all I think I shall not say, nor let my anger burn, 66 Gay", they have not left me "Sterne". MAGPIE AND MONKEY.-YRIAL "Dear madam, I pray," quoth a magpie one To my snug little home in the trunk of a tree, 1 front: Tas my urely As a lady of taste and discernment like you Will be equally pleased and astonished to view ; In an old oak-tree hard by I have stowed all these rarities; The monkey agreed at once to proceed, And hopping along at the top of her speed, To keep up with the guide, who flew by her side, In which she had cunningly hidden the whole, And displayed her hoard to the monkey's view: A ribbon dropped by a gypsey lass; A tattered handkerchief edged with lace, A couple of pegs from a cracked guitar; Beads, buttons and rings, and other odd things, And such as my hearers would think me an ass, if I At last, having gone, one by one, through the whole, "What, sister, I pray, have you nothing to say, In return for the sight that I have shown you to-day? At length when the Magpie had ceased to revile, In the digging of roots, and the prigging of fruits, For my appetite's small, and I don't eat a deal,— I safely deposit the rest of my treasure, And carry it home to be eaten at leisure. In short, Ma'am, while you collect rubbish and rags,— With things that are really a comfort and blessing,— The Monkey's reply-for I must, if I'm able, |