Watch it he did-and never took his eyes off,
But licked his upper, then his under lip,
And doubled up his fist to drive the flies off,
Begrudging them the smallest sip,
Which if they got,

Like my Lord Salisbury, he heaved a sigh,
And cried, "O happy, happy fly,
How I do envy your lot!"

Each moment did his appetite grow stronger;
His bowels yearn'd;

At length he could not bear it any longer,

But on all sides his looks he turn'd,

And finding that the coast was clear, he quaff'd

The whole up at a draught.

Scudding from church, the farmer's wife flew to the dairy;

But stood aghast, and could not, for her life,

Asking the when, and where, and how, and who,

Had gulph'd her cream, nor left an atom;

To which he gave not separate replies,
But with a look of excellent digestion

One answer made to every question,
"The Flies!"

"The flies, you rogue !-the flies, you greedy dog
Behold your whiskers still are covered thickly;
Thief—liar-villain-gormandizer-hog!

I'll make you tell another story quickly."
So out she bounced, and brought, with loud alarms,
Two stout Gens-d'Armes,

Who bore him to the judge-a little prig,

With angry bottle-nose

Like a red cabbage-rose,

While lots of white ones flourish'd on his wig.

Looking at once both stern and wise,
He turn'd to the delinquent,

And 'gan to question him and catechise
As to which way the drink went:
Still the same dogged answers rise,

"The flies, my Lord-the flies, the flies!"

"Psha !" quoth the Judge, half peevish and ha:f pompous

"Why you're non compos.

You should have watched the bowl, as she desired,

And so killed the flies you stupid clown."

"What is it lawful then ?" the dolt inquir'd,
"To kill the flies in this here town?"
"You silly ass--a pretty question this!
Lawful? you booby!—to be sure it is.
You've my authority, where'er you meet 'em,
To kill the rogues, and, if you like it, eat 'em."
"Zooks!" cried the rustic, "I'm right glad to hear it.

"Constable, catch that thief! may I go hang If yonder blue-bottle (I know his face)

Isn't the very leader of the gang

That stole the cream ;-let me come near it !"

This said he started from his place,

And aiming one of his sledge-hammer blows

At a large fly upon the Judge's nose
The luckless blue-bottle he smash'd

And gratified a double grudge;

For the same catapult completely smash'd
The bottle-nose belonging to the Judge.

A JAUNT TO THE WEDDING.-ANON.

1. SAYS Peter, says he, "I'll whip him a little," "Try it, my dear," says she:

But he might just as well have whipped a brass-kettle;
The donkey was made of such obstinate mettle,

Never a step moved he.

2. "I'll stick him, my dear, with a needle," says she, "I'm thinking he'll alter his mind :"

The beast felt the needle, and up went his heel; "I'm thinking," says Peter, "he's beginning to feel Some notion of moving behind."

3. "Now give him the needle, and I'll tickle his ear,
And set t'other end, too, agoing;"

The beast felt the needle, and upward he reared,
But kicking and rearing was all that appeared
He had any intention of doing.

4. Says Peter, says he, "We are getting on slow;

While one end is up, t'other sticks in the ground;
But I'm thinking a method to match him I know:
We'll let for an instant both tail and ear go,

IN Normandy, quite near the coast, a fisherman did dwell,
Who never was a dandy, though the sea oft had a swell.
His hut was small-just twelve feet square and just two stories
high,

With chimneys on the top of it which opened towards the sky.
Of wives he'd had a score or more, but put them all to death;
They died, the country people said, for want of life and breath.
Abummerleaky was his name, Blewbeardy called for short,
And now, to take another wife, he rather thought he ought.

A damsel, fair and virtuous, had caught the monster's eye,
He'd met her in the field one day "a coming through the rye;"
But Fatima-that was her name-another lover had,
And when her dad consented, her virgin heart was sad.
But Selim-that's the lover's name-swore by the Gods above
He'd pull the nose and tear the beard of him who stole his love.
His threatenings were of no avail, for Fatima became
The wife of great Abuinmerleak and changed her maiden name.
Weeks passed in onward course of time until one pleasant day,
Blewbeardy called his wife aside, and thus to her did say:
"I give thee here my household keys, I bid thee take them all;
This one which opes the attic large, I'll hang upon the wall;
I warn thee, wife, don't take it down. Don't in the attic go,
For if you do, I swear to you, I'll very quickly know."
Blewbeardy went to catch some fish out on the wide sea foam,
And now his wife, his darling wife, was left behind at home.
Her sister, who was called Irene, then put it in her head

Το

go

into the attic room before they made the bread. They went they saw-what did they see? Why was the wife so bold?

What made the very blood they had, throughout their veins run cold?

There in that attic room was hung, all mold'ring to decay,

A score or more of mackarels that had been thrown away.

And on the wall this warning was, which froze their very soul,

Until they felt like creeping through the smallest kind of hole.

But what it read, but what it read, you would not like to know,

But anyhow I think it best to quickly tell you, though :

"Who enters here, whate'er they be,

No matter what their station,
For be they rich, or high, or low,
They'll die of suffocation."

TOBY TOSSPOT.-COLMAN.

ALAS! what pity 'tis that regularity,
Like Isaac Shove's is such a rarity,

But there are swilling wights in London town

Termed-jolly dogs,-choice spirits-alias swine,
Who pour in midnight revel, bumpers down,
Making their throat a thoroughfare for wine.

These spendthrifts, who life's pleasures thus run on,
Dozing with headaches till the afternoon,

Lose half men's regular estate of sun,
By borrowing too largely of the moon.

One of this kidney,-Toby Tosspot hight
Was coming from the Bedford late at night:
And being Bacchi plenus,-full of wine,
Although he had a tolerable notion
Of aiming at progressive motion,
'Twasn't direct--'twas serpentine.
He worked with sinuosities, along,

Like Monsieur Corkscrew, worming through a cork, Not straight, like Corkscrew's proxy, stiff Don Prong—a fork.

At length, with near four bottles in his pate,

He saw the moon a shining on Shove's brass plate,
When reading, "Please to ring the bell,"

And being civil beyond measure,
"Ring it!" says Toby-" Very well;

I'll ring it with a deal of pleasure." Toby, the kindest soul in all the town, Gave it a jerk that almost jerked it down.

He waited full two minutes-no one came;
He waited full two minutes more;-and then,
Says Toby," If he's deaf, I'm not to blame;
I'll pull it for the gentleman again."

But the first peal 'woke Isaac in a fright,
Who, quick as lightning, popping up his head,
Sat on his head's antipodes, in bed,

Pale as a parsnip,-bolt upright.