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By the margin of the lake,
Splashing ! flashing !
Like forty thousand giants snoring! By the lonely hut and mansion, By the ocean's wide expansionWhere the factory chimneys smoke, Where the foundry bellows croakDash along ! Slash along! Crash along ! Flash along! On! on! with a jump, And a bump,
And a roll!
Now a tavern—now a steeple-
the silent dead !
Rumble, tumble, all the day,
THE FARMER AND THE LAWYER.-HORACE SMITH.
A COUNSEL in the Common Pleas, who was esteemed a mighty wit, upon the strength of a chance hit, amid a thousand flippancies, and his occasional bad jokes in bullying, bantering, browbeating, ridiculing, and maltreating women, or other timid folks, in a late cause resolved to hoax a clownish, Yorkshire farmer,-one who by his uncouth look and gait appeared expressly meant by Fate for being quizzed and played upon. So having tipped the wink to those in the back rows, who kept their laughter bottled down until our wag should draw the cork, he smiled jocosely on the clown, and went to work. “Well, Farmer Numbskull, how go calves at York ?" " Why, not, sir, as they do wi' you, but on four legs instead of two." “ Officer !" cried the legal elf, piqued at the laugh
against himself, do pray keep silence down below there. Now look at me, clown; attend ! have I not seen you somewhere, friend ?!
Yes, very like; I often go there." rustic's waggish-quite laconic !" the counsel cried, with grin sardonic; "I wish I'd known this prodigy, this genius of the clods, when I on circuit was at York residing. Now, farmer, do for once speak true; mind, you 're on oath, so tell me you, who doubtless think yourself so clever, are there as many fools as ever in the West Riding ?" Why, no, sir ; no; we've got our share, but not so many as when you were there."
So prone are all men to debate,
Tim thus his loving friend address'd:
That Dick should swill such seas of gin;
“ Nor I,” said Peter, with a groan-
But, bless me! what a change appears
" True," answered Tim, "good Peter, true; But see, the bottle stands with you.”
Besides,” said Peter, “ of all crimes
“E'en so," cried Tim, and fill'd his glass, “ Dick's crimes all other crimes surpass.
I scorn the man, who, void of shame,
Thus long, in many a speech sublime,
The roaring sinners reel'd to bed.
ELEGY ON MRS. BLAIZE-GOLDSMITH.
Good people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word
From those who spoke her praiso.
The needy seldom pass'd her door,
And always found her kind; She freely lent to all the poor
Who left a pledge behind.
She strove the neighborhood to please,
With manners wondrous winning, And never followed wicked ways
Unless when she was sinning.
At church, in silks and satins new,
With hoop of monstrous size, She never slumber'd in her pew
But when she shut her eyes.
Her love was sought, I do aver,
By twenty beaus and more;
When she has walk'd before.
But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all ; The doctors found, when she was dead,
Her last disorder mortal.
Let us lament, in sorrow sore,
For Kent street well may say, That had she lived a twelvemonth more
She had not died to-day.