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Just like a hedger cutting furze:

'Twas a vile razor ;—then the rest he tried

All were impostors—“Ah," Hodge sigh'd ! “I wish my eighteen-pence within my purse,”

In vain to chase his beard, and bring the graces, He cut, and dug, and winc'd, and stamp'd, and

swore ; Brought blood, and danc'd, blasphem'd, and made

wry faces, And curs'd each razor's body o'er and o’er.

His muzzle, formed of opposition stuff,

Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff ; So kept it-laughing at the steel and suds :

Hodge, in a passion, stretch'd his angry jaws,

Vowing the direst vengence, with clenched claws, On the great cheat that sold the goods.

“Razors! a vile, confounded dog,
“ Not fit to scrape a hog!”

Hodge sought the fellow_found him—and begun : “Perhaps, Master Razor-rogue, to you 'tis fun,

“ That people flay themselves out of their lives : “ You rascal ! for an hour have I been grubbing, Giving my scoundrel whiskers here a scrubbing, “With razors just like oyster knives.

“ Sirrah! I tell you, you're a knave,
“ To cry up razors that can't shave.

“ Friend,” quoth the razor man, “ I'm not a knave :

“ As for the razors you have bought,

“ Upon my soul I never thought That they would shave.

“Not think they'd shave !" quoth Hodge, with

wond’ring eyes, And voice not much unlike an Indian yell; “What were they made for then, you dog,” he cries; “Made!” quoth the fellow, with a smile,—“to sell.

WALCOT.

Wodge and the Justice.

Hodge held a farm, and liv'd content,
While one year paid another's rent;
But if he ran the least behind,
Vexation stung his anxious mind :
For not an hour would landlord stay ;
But seize the very quarter-day!
That cheap the market ! scant the grain !
Tho' urg'd with truth, were urg'd in vain :
The same to him, if false, or true;

For rent must come, when rent was due.
Yet this same landlord's cows and steeds,
Broke Hodge's fence, and cropt his meads.
In hunting, the same landlord's hounds
Spread over Hodge's new-sown grounds,
Dog, horse, and man, alike o'erjoy'd
While half the rising crop's destroy'd !
Yet tamely was the loss sustain'd,
Save once, and then, when Hodge complain'd,
The 'Squire laugh'd loudly while he spoke,
And paid him only with a joke,

But luckless still, poor Hodge's fate!
His worship's bull forc'd o'er the gate,
And gor'd his cow,

the last and best, By sickness he had lost the rest. Hodge felt at heart resentment strong! The heart will feel that suffers long. A thought, that instant, took his head, And thus ithin himself he said : “ If Hodge, for once, don't fling the 'Squire, The village post him for a liar ! He said and 'cross his shoulder throws The fork, and to his landlord goes. “I come, thus early, to unfold “ What soon or late you must be told.

My bull (a creature tame till now) “My bull has gor'd your worship's cow. “ 'Tis known what shifts I make to live; “Perhaps your honour may forgive !"

“Forgive !" the 'Squire replied, and swore !
* Pray of forgiveness cant no more!
“ The law my damage shall decide,
" And know that l'll be satisfied.”

Think, sir, I'm poor, sir, as a rat!”
6 Think ! I'm a Justice ! think of that !”
Hodge bow'd again, and scratch'd his head,
And recollecting, archly said,
Sir, I'm so struck, while here before ye,
“ I fear I've blunder'd in my story.
“ However, I'll not blunder now,
“Your's was the bull, sir! mine the cow."
His worship found his rage subside,
And with calm accents, thus replied :
“ I'll think upon your case to-night ;
“But, I perceive, 'tis alter'd quite."
Hodge shrugg'd, and made another bow,
“ I wonder where's the justice now ?”

ANON.

The Prodigy.

ONCE on a time, as holy authors say,
A Roman Knight met Cato on the way,
“ Kind sir," quoth he, “your speedy counsel lend;
Strange potents are abroad, that fright your friend :

“ A prodigy I've seen :- last night a rat “ Eat my old shoe :—what think you, Sir, of that? “My wife is sick and hence I surely spy “ She will recover, or myself shall die.” Thus spake the knight, and thus the seer began, “ Your idle fears dispel, and be a man, “Rats will maraud; and if I augur true, “Nor death, nor disappointment thence ensue. “ If your old shoes, indeed, had eat the rat, “ I should have thought a prodigy in that,"

AXOX

A Secret.

Ye belles, who of your beaux so fine
Can boast, pray let me tell of mine.
He's young and handsome, brave and gay,
Most amiable, and tout au fait ;
He's very rich, in person nice,
Without a blemish or a vice;
He's very wise, and very witty,
And
very

famed in court and city ;
To me he's very, very kind,
And very
much he's to my

mind.
Now, what a pity, he's not real!
My beau is but a beau, ideal!

POCKET BOOK.

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