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the drugs and drenching-horn to old-Leach, the farrier.! Coming back, I met the vicar, who bade me run to Ben the barber, for his best wig, as he was going to the wedding-dinner.
Quot. A good lad; try to please everybody.
Dick. I do sir. I thrashed young Master Jackey just now, handsomely.
Quot. For what?
Dick. He was making fun, sir, of Blind Bob, the fiddler, who comes to our shop for a hapworth of rosin.
Quot. Oh, he mustn't offend a customer. Well, what else? as the poet says.
Dick. Why, sir, I filled the drawer with yellow-ochre, ground the green paint, bottled the red ink, blacked the shoes, and whitewashed the chimney-corner.
Quot. Talking of whitewashing, puts me in mind of Swilltub, the great brewer, now a bankrupt-has he sent for the hand-bills we printed !
Dick. Yes sir; and desired you to put a new light into his dark lantern! A job for you, too, in the glazing line, over the way, at the public house.—Sam Solid, dead drunk, turning round, broke three squares of the bow window.
Quot. That must wait till to-morrow. Have you mixed up the medicine for the mad Methodist parson?
Dick. Yes sir, but there's no more bark.
Quot. Talking of bark, puts me in mind of my little terrier dog-have you fed him?
Dick. Oh, yes, a terrible good one for vermin-he'll kill all the rats in the parish.
Quot. Ok, hang it, then kill him, or he 'll hurt the sale of arsenic.
Dick. Ecod, right master—we sell as much poison as all the doctors in the parish.
Quot. Talking of poison, have you taken the last new novel out of the girls' school-room ? as the poet says.
Dick. Yes sir, dang it, I wonder how you spare your time for poets and books-so much business! but there—you be often painting and writing poetry at the same time.
Quot. Poetry and painting are nearly the same thing, Dick.
Dick. That be what I thought myself ; so, as I mixed up colors for one, I'd a mind to try my hand at the other. Yesterday, I set to, with a bit of chalk, and got on famously. I finished the first line in a crack, but when I got to the end of the second, I could not think of a rhyme, and so I-stuck fast.
Quot. (Aside.) Confound the fellow, if he takes to poetry, I shall get no work done. Don't try again, Dick—one poet is enough in a family.
Dick. That be what mistress do say, sir. She complains that poetry has spoiled you! and that you don't do half what you used to do.
Quot. She's mistaken-I only change about—don't stick so much to the same job. Now, Dick, for business. You've done all the jobs I set you about ?
Dick. Yes sir, you may be certain of that.
Quot. Why, I believe you're pretty punctual, tho: not always so expeditious as I could wish. Sure, though somewhat slow, as Swift says.
Dick. Ob, you may depend upon me.
Quot. Did you run with the articles I wrapt up this morning?
Dick. Odd rabbit it, no-I quite forgot. Here they be. (Brings forward two parcels.) What's this? (reads.) ForDang it, sir, I can't well make out the directions—you wrote in such a hurry.
Quot No! mine 's a good running hand.
Dick. Running! I think it be galloping, the letters seem to scamper away from one another so fast, there 's no catching them.
Quot. Let me see; that's for Squire Fudge—this for the attorney's clerk in the next street.'
Dick. Squire Fudge! Oh, the old gentleman who lately married his smart young housekeeper. What be the articles, sir ?
Quot. Essence of hartshorn, a pair of spectacles, and a quire of large foolscap
and be angry.
Dick. For old Fudge ?
Dick. I'll go with them directly, and when I come back take my lunch. Bless me, sir, our beer do want drinking sadly, it be gitting sour.
Quot. Talking of what's sour, where's your mistress?
Take my apron—I'm off. As to my wife-
you Quot. Nonsense! who rules? Am not I (as Milton says) “ Cock of the walk ?" Get you gone, and haste back, as I am going out soon—I've peeped into the school.
Dick. I am afraid the boys will play the deuce when they find you're from home; what am I to do?
Quot. Flog 'em all round.
Dick. I will, sir; I've put a new rod in pickle on purpose.
(Exit. Quot. Now
I to make a bold push for a fresh customer, as Cowley says. Busy day! a wedding this morning-andtalking of wedding, puts me in mind of a christening! Festival, too, in the next parish ! fine fun going on--bull-baiting, boxing, and backsword—jumping in sacks, grinning match and donkey race! I promised to meet the change-ringers hope I shall be in time just to take a touch at the triplebobs, as the poet says.
LOOK AT THE CLOCK.-INGOLDSBY LEGENDS.
“ Look at the clock !" quoth Winifred Pryce,
As she open’d the door to her husband's knock, Then paus’d to give him a piece of advice, "You nasty Warmint, look at the Clock !
Is this the way, you
Wretch, every day you
Out all night!
Me in a fright;
Winifred Pryce was tidy and clean,
A face like a ferret
Betoken'd her spirit:
Now David Pryce
Had one darling vice; Remarkably partial to anything nice,
If it was not too stale
Not that in Wales
They talk of their Ales;. To pronounce the word they make use of might trouble you, Being spelt with a C, two Rs, and a W.
That particular day,
As I've heard people say,
Mrs. Pryce's tongue ran long and fast;
So he threw it, instead,
Down she fell flat;
Mr. Pryce, Mrs. Winifred Pryce being dead,
Not far from his dwelling,
From the vale proudly swelling, Rose a mountain; its mame you 'll excuse me from telling, For the vowels made use of in Welsh are so few That the A and the E, the I, O, and the U, Have really but little or nothing to do; And the duty, of course, falls the heavier by far On the L, and the H, and the N, and the R.
Its first syllable "Pen,"
Is pronounceable ;—then