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Big-worded bullies, who by quarrels live-
Who give the lie, and tell the lie they give;
Jews from St Mary Axe, for jobs so wary,
That sor old clothes they'd even axe St Mary;
And bucks with pockets empty as their pate,
Lax in their gaiters, laxer in their gait;
Who oft, when we our house lock up, carouse
With tippling tipstaves in a lock-up house.

Yet here, as elsewhere, Chance can joy bestow, Where scowling Fortune seem'd to threaten woe.

John Richard William Alexander Dwyer Was footman to Justinian Stubbs, Esquire ; But when John Dwyer listed in the Blues, Emanuel Jennings polisi'd Stubb's shoes. Emanuel Jennings brought his youngest boy Up as a corn-cutter—a safe employ; In Holywell Street, St Pancras, he was bred, (At number twenty-seven, it is said,) Facing the pump, and near the Granby's Head : He would have bound him to some shop in town, But with a premium he could not come down. Pat was the urchin's name—a red-hair'd youth, Fonder of purl and skittle-grounds than truth.

Silence, ye gods! to keep your tongues in awe, The Muse shall tell an accident she saw.

Pat Jennings in the upper gallery sat, But, leaning forward, Jennings lost his hat ; Down from the gallery the beaver flew, And spurn’d the one to settle in the two. How shall he act? Pay at the gallery-door Two shillings for what cost, when new, but four ? Or till half-price, to save his shilling, wait,

And gain his hat again at half-past eight?
Now while his fears anticipate a thief,
John Mullens whispered, "Take my handkerchief."
“ Thank you,” cries Pat; “but one won't make a line.”
“ Take mine," cried Wilson ; and cried Stokes, “Take mine."
A motley cable soon Pat Jennings ties,
Where Spitalfields with real India vies.
Like Iris' bow down darts the painted clue,
Starr'd, striped, and spotted, yellow, red, and blue,
Old calico, torn silk, and muslin new.
George Green below, with palpitating hand,
Loops the last ’kerchief to the beaver's band-
Upsoars the prize! The youth, with joy unfeign'd,
Regain'd the felt, and felt what he regain'd;
While to the applauding galleries grateful Pat
Made a low bow, and touch'd the ransom'd hat.



OW sleep the brave, who sink to rest,

By all their country's wishes blest !
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.

By fairy hands their knell is rung,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung ;
There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay ;
And Freedom shall a while repair,
And dwell. a weeping hermit, there.




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S we stood at the window of an inn that fronted the public prison, a

person arrived on horseback, genteelly though plainly dressed in a blue frock, with his own hair cut short, and a gold-laced hat upon his head. Alighting, and giving his horse to the landlord, he advanced to an old man who was at work in paving the street, and accosted him in these words :“ This is hard work for such an old man as you ?” So saying, he took the instrument out of his hand, and began to thump the pavement. After a few strokes, “Have you never a son,” said he, “ to ease you of this labour ?” “ Yes, an' please your honour,” replied the senior, “I have three hopeful lads, but at present they are out of the way." Honour not me,” cried the stranger; “it more becomes me to honour your gray hairs. Where are those sons you talk of?” The ancient pavier said, his eldest son was a captain in the East Indies, and the youngest had lately enlisted as a soldier, in hopes of prospering like his brother. The gentleman desiring to know what was become of the second, he wiped his eyes, and owned he had taken upon him his old father's debts, for which he was now in the prison hard by.

The traveiler made three quick steps towards the jail; then turning short, “ Tell me," said he, “ has that unnatural captain sent you nothing to relieve your distresses ?” “Call him not unnatural,” replied the other;

“ “God's blessing be upon him! he sent me a great deal of money, but I made a bad use of it; I lost it by being security for a gentleman that was my landlord, and was stripped of all I had in the world besides.” At that instant a young man, thrusting out his head and neck between two iron bars in the prison window, exclaimed, “Father! father! if my brother William is in life, that 's he.” “I am! I am !” cried the stranger, clasping the old man in his arms, and shedding a flood of tears, “ I am your son Willy, sure enough!” Before the father, who was quite confounded, could make any return to this tenderness, a decent old woman, bolting out from the door of a poor habitation, cried, “Where is my bairn? where is my dear Willy ?” The captain no sooner beheld her than he quitted his father, and ran into her embrace.





I WAS lately introduced into a company of the best dressed men I have

seen since my arrival. Upon entering the room, I was struck with awe at the grandeur of the different dresses. That personage, thought I, in blue and gold must be some emperor's son; that in green and silver a prince of the blood; he in embroidered scarlet a prime minister, all firstrate noblemen, I suppose, and well-looking noblemen too. I sat for some time with that uneasiness which conscious inferiority produces in the ingenuous mind, all attention to their discourse. However, I found their conversation more vulgar than I could have expected from personages of such distinction : if these, thought I to myself, be princes, they are the most stupid princes I have ever corversed with: yet still I continued to venerate their dress; for dress has a kind of mechanical influence on the mind.

My friend in black, indeed, did not behave with the same deference, but contradicted the finest of them all in the most peremptory tones of contempt. But I had scarcely time to wonder at the imprudence of his conduct, when I found occasion to be equally surprised at the absurdity of theirs ; for upon the entry of a middle-aged man, dressed in a cap, dirty shirt and boots, the whole circle seemed diminished of their former importance, and contended who should be first to pay their obeisance to the stranger. They somewhat resembled a circle of Kalmucs offering incense to a bear.

Eager to know the cause of so much seeming contradiction, I whispered my friend out of the room, and found that the august company consisted of no other than a dancing-master, two fiddlers, and a third-rate actor, all assembled in order to make a set at country dances, as the middle-aged gentleman whom I saw enter was a squire from the country, desirous of learning the new manner of footing, and smoothing up the rudiments of his rural minuet.

I was no longer surprised at the authority which my friend assumed among them, nay, was even displeased (pardon my Eastern education) that he had not kicked every creature of them down stairs. “What!” said I, “shall a set of such paltry fellows dress themselves up like sons of kings, and claim even the transitory respect of half an hour? There

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