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A dog who saw the man's condition,

A lean and hungry politician,
On the lookout, was close behind-

A sly and subtle chap,
Of most sagacious smell,
Like politicians of a higher kind,

Ready to snap
At anything that fell.
The porter staggered on, the dog kept near,

Watching each lucky moment for a bite,
Now made a spring, and then drew back in fear,

While Hayman followed, tittering at the sight.
Through many a street our tipsy porter goes,

Then 'gainst a cask in solemn thought reclined; The watchful dog the happy moment knows,

And Hayman cheers him on not far behind.
Encouraged thus-what dog would dare refrain ?
He jumped and bit, and jumped and bit, and jumped and

bit again;
Till having made a hearty meal
He careless turned upon his heel,
And trotted at his ease away,
Nor thought of asking—“ what's to pay ?"

And here some sage, with moral spleen may say,
“ This Hayman should have driven the dog away!
The effects of vice the blameless should not bear,
And folks that are not drunkards lose their hare"

Not as unfashionably good,
The waggish Hayman laughing stood,
Until our porter's stupor o'er
He jogged on tottering as before,
Unconscious of any body kind
Had eased him of his load behind ;-
Now on the houses bent his eye,
As if his journey's end were nigh,

Then read a paper in his hand,

And made a stand.-
Hayman drew near with eager mien,
To mark the closing of the scene,

His mirth up to the brim;
The porter read the address once more,
And hickuped," where's one Hayman's door?

I've got a hare for him !"

FOOLISH SON AND MORE FOOLISH MOTHEP..

GEORGE COLMAN, JR.

LADY DUBERLY, DR. PANGLOSS AND DICKY.

Lady D. And how does my lord come on with his learn ing, doctor?

Pang. Apt, very apt, indeed, for his age. Defective in nothing now but words, phrases, and grammar.

Lady D. I wish you could learn him to follow my example, and be a little genteel; but there is no making a silk purse out of a sow's ear, they say.

Pang. Time may do much. But, as to my lord, everybody hasn't your ladyship's exquisite elegance. “My soul, a lie."Shakspeare. Hem !

(Aside. Lady D. A mighty pretty spoken man !-And you are made tutor, I'm told, doctor, to my Dicky?

Pang. That honor has accrued to your obsequious servant, Peter Pangloss. I have now the felicity of superintending your ladyship's Dicky.

Lady D. I must not have my son thwarted, doctor; for when he has his way in everything, he's the sweetest temper'd youth in Christendom.

Pang. An extraordinary instance of mildness !

Lady D. Oh, as mild as mother's milk, I assure you. And what is he to learn, doctor?

Pang. Our readings will be various : logic, ethics and mathematics; history, foreign and domestic; geography, ancient and modern; voyages and travels, antiquities, British and foreign; natural history; natural and moral philosophy; classics; arts and sciences; belles lettres and miscellanies.

Lady D. Bless me! 'tis enough to batter the poor boy's brains to a mummy.

Pang " A little learning—"
Lady D. Little? A load!
Pang. "Is a dangerous thing.”—Pope. Hem!
Lady D. And you have left out the main article.
Pang. What may your ladyship mean?
Lady D. Mean! Why, dancing, to be sure.

Pang. Dancing? Dr. Pangloss, the philosopher, teach to dance ?

Lady D. Between whiles, you might give Dick a lesson or two in the hall. As my lord's valet plays on the kit, it will be quite handy to have you both in the house, you know.

Pang. With submission to your ladyship, my business is with the head, and not the heels of my pupil.

Lady D. Fiddle faddle! Lady Betty tells me that the heads of young men of fashion, now-a-days, are by no means overloaded. They are all left to the barber and dentist.

Pang. 'Twould be daring to dispute so self-evident an axiom. But, if your ladyshipLady D. Look

ye, doctor ;-he must learn to dance and jabber French; and I wouldn't give a brass farden for anything else. I know what's elegance;—and you'll find the gray mare the better horse, in this house, I promise you.

Pang. Her ladyship is paramount. Dux fæmina facti." Virgil. Hem!

(Aside. Lady D. What's your pay here, Mr. Tutorer?

Pang. Three hundred pounds per annum:- —that is—sixno, three--no-ay-no matter :-the rest is between me and Mr. Dowlas.

(Aside. Lady D. Do as I direct you in private, and, to prevent words, I'll double it.

Pang. Double it! What, again! Nine hundred per annum! (Aside.) I'll take it. “ Your hand; a covenant."Shakspeare. Hem! Bless me, I've got beyond the reading, at last!

“I've often wished that I had, clear,
For life"-

(Lord D speaks without. I hear, my lord

“Nine hundred pounds a year.”— Swift. Hem!

Enter LORD DUBERLY and Dick DowLAS. Lord D. Come along, Dick ? Here he is again, my lady. Twist, the tailor, happen'd to come in promiscuously, as I may

say, and

Pang. Accidentally, my lord, would be better.

Lord D. Ay, accidentally—with a suit of my Lord Docktail's under his arm; and, as we was in a bit of a rumpus to rig out Dick, why

Pang. Dress, not rig-unless metaphorically.

Lord D. Well—to dress out—why, we--hump! doctor, don't bother—in short, we popp'd Dick into 'em; and, Twist says, they hit to a hair.

Dick. Yes, they are quite the dandy—aren't they, mother ? This is all the go, they say-cut straight—that 's the thingsquare waist-wrap over the knee, and all that. Slouch is the word now, you know.

Lady D. Exceeding genteel, I declare ! Turn about Dick. They don't pinch-do they?

Dick. Oh no! just as if I'd been measured.

Lord D. Pinch? Why, my lady, they sit like a sack. But why don't you stand up? The boy rolls about like a porpus in a storm.

Dick. That's the fashion, father !—that's modern ease. Young Vats, the beau brewer, from the borough, brought it down, last Christmas, to Castleton. A young fellow is nothing now without the Bond street roll, a tooth-pick between his

teeth, and his knuckles cramm'd into his coat pocket. Then
away you go, lounging lazily along. Ah, Tom ! What!
Will rolling away, you see ! How are you, Jack? What !
my little Dolly!--that's the way-isn't it, mother?
Lady D. The

very
air and

grace

of

our young nobility ! Lord D. Is it? Grace must have got plaguy limber and lopt, of late. There's the last Lord Duberly's father, done in our dining-room, with a wig as wide as a wash-tub, and stuck up as stiff as a poker. He was one of your tip-tops, too, in his time, they tell me; he carried a gold stick before George the First.

Lady D. Yes; and looks, for all the world, as straight as if he had swallowed it.

Lord D. No matter for that, my lady. What signifies dignity without its crackeristick? A man should know how to bemean himself, when he is as rich as Pluto.

Pang. Plutus, if you please, my lord. Pluto, no doubt, has disciples, and followers of fashion; but Plutus is the ruler of riches :—- Anuring uev Illoūrov šyelvaro."--Hesiod. Hem !

Lord D. There, Dick ! d'ye hear how the tutorer talks ? Odd rabbit, he can ladle you out Latin by the quart; and grunts Greek like a pig. I've gin him three hundred & year, and settled all he's to larn you. Ha’n't I doctor?

Pang. Certainly, my lord. “ Thrice to thine,"
Dick. Yes, we know all about that. Don't

we,

doctor? Pang. Decidedly—“ and thrice to thine" Lady D. Aye, aye; clearly understood. Isn't it, doctor ?

Pang. Undoubtedly—“ And thrice again to make up nine." --Shakspeare. Hem! (These three quotations aside.

A SONG OF THE RAILROAD.-0. T. WOLFE.

THROUGH the mold and through the clay,
Through the corn and through the hay,

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