***

"Three things struck me above all the rest in English education: the respect which the parents show to their children; their care not to foment anger and resentment, and the bodily exercises by which the waste of strength caused by those of the mind is compensated. * * Even in the universities, the students are always treated as equals by their instructors, and esteemed and received as men. The result of this most rational etiquette is, that the Englishman (not born, perhaps, with faculties so ready as those of an Italian) becomes a man much sooner. They do not dazzle with brilliant sayings, they are never prodigal of wit, but they are always sensible, and never talk sheer non

sense.

录

"The truth is, that in their education the soul is never disturbed by the passions,-

Winds adverse to serenity of life.

"To be master of oneself—' to keep the temper,' is so essential a law of education, that it almost appears to be the fundamental law of the

state.

It is not allowed to go off the hinges' (as the Tuscans have it), either when in contact with the servants or the dirtiest scoundrel in existence. A strong resentment, expressed in decorous terms, is the mark of the gentleman in England. In the parliament itself, those speakers who cannot restrain themselves are generally censured, and deemed, incapable of the management of great affairs. A duel entered into precipitately is thought as ignominious as to avoid one in a cowardly manner.

"English education is an English system, like no other, born in England, produced by a variety of circumstances, partly perhaps from their being at one and the same time a warlike and a commercial nation, which tend to repress the passions on frivolous occasions, and to give them the rein on those of importance.

"It would seem as if Rousseau, who once lived for some time among the English, took from them the principal ideas of the physical education of his Emilius. The gymnastics of the English are almost all applied to practical uses. Fox-hunting, shooting, horse-racing, swimming, rowing, driving, cricket, skating, are exercises which keep almost all ages in perpetual motion. Like the Greeks, the English think gymnastics unbecoming to no age whatever, and to no pro

fession. In hunting, at cricket, and at skating, I have often found myself in company with boys, with clergymen, and men advanced in years, all mixed together. In all these exercises, the object is not to beautify, but to fortify, to steel, as they call it, the body.

"Nobody can ever frighten the boys with the idea of danger. The Spartans used to say, when they threw a weak-born infant over the cliff, that it was better a child should die, than a citizen should grow up useless to his country. When the English let their children slide on thinly-frozen rivers, it seems as if they thought, -and wisely too, that it is better to run the risk of losing a son, than have him timid and pusillanimous all his life long. Not softened then by immoderate caresses, nor terrified by scowling eyebrows or terrible menaces, the English boy is free in his movements; he sits on the ground or jumps to his feet at his own will; he lies on the sofa or the grass as he

THE ATHENEUM.

pleases: provided only he do not disturb others, he may gratify any innocent caprice of his own. himself, becomes accustomed to observe and In this way he is continually making trials of judge, compares his means with the difficulties to be overcome, sounds the depth of dangers, strength." and acquires vigour, and confidence in his own

The following is from a paper on the oppoEnglish oratory :— sition in the House of Commons, and on

"There is none of this elegance or this affectation, whichever it may best be called, in gesticulate like a windmill, or perhaps not at England; they rise dressed just as it happens, change the modulation of the voice no more all, like a phantom; and for several hours than a Scotch bagpipe. The minister, Canning, right-hand on a small wooden box which stood in the heat of speaking, used to thump with his bringing down his hammer. His rival, Brougham, before him, like a blacksmith raising up and tall, thin, convulsed in the muscles of his face, exactly like one of our boneless fantoccini. crosses when he speaks both arms and legs, them, Kean, employ those architectural attiNot even their actors, for example, the chief of tudes which the actors of other nations make use of. Their artifice consists in following, not the dictates of art, but those of nature. I confess, however, that, in my opinion, the Members of Parliament ought sometimes to embellish nature a little."

We would willingly have extended our touched on in the course of the work; but, extracts; there are many subjects of interest unfortunately, the Count's style is rather loose and prolix, so that it is exceedingly difficult to find passages that would suit us, without breaking a chapter up into fragments as we have done that on education.

power. It details the influence of supersti tion over a guilty imagination, the power of posed to be affixed to the breach of the sacer remorse to realize the awful penalties supginary being that gives name to the story, is dotal vow. The 'Lianhan Shee,' the imanever described by the Irish peasant;him like the spirit in the Book of Job, an shrouded in terrible indistinctness, it is to awfully mysterious creation, at whose name "the hairs of his flesh stand up."

The second tale, The Poor Scholar,' is purely human. In it the author shows himmore delightful to us, because its interest is self a powerful master of the pathetic: hard indeed must be the heart that can read this genuine extract from "the simple annals of youth setting out to acquire learning in the the poor," without feeling its influence. The family from the misery into which it was hopes that by its means he may rescue his plunged by the profligacy of an agent and the heartless indifference of a landlord, is, or rather was, no very unusual sight in Ireland. The poor adventurer was not treated as a beggar; and the following description of the hospitality accorded to the hero of the tale is far from being exaggerated.

As Jemmy proceeded, he found that his sat chel of books and apparel gave as clear an inti mation of his purpose, as if he had carried a label to that effect upon his back.

666

God save you, a bouchal!' said a warm honest-looking countryman, whom he met driving home his cows in the evening, within a few miles of the town in which he purposed to sleep. "God save you kindly!'

fore you, alanna, for I know well it's for Mun"Why, thin, 'tis a long journey you have be

ster you're bound.'

"Thrue for you, 'tis there wid the help of God I'm goin'. A great scarcity of larnin' was in my own place, or I wouldn't have to go at all,' said the boy, whilst his eyes filled with tears.

'Tis no discredit in life,' replied the countryman, with untaught, natural delicacy, for he perceived that a sense of pride lingered about the boy, which made the character of poor scholar sit painfully upon him; 'tis no discredit, dear, nor don't be cast down. I'll warrant you that God will prosper you; an' that he may, avick, I pray this day and as he spoke, he raised his hat in reverence to the Being whom he invoked. 'An' tell me, dear-where do you intend to sleep to-night?'

666

"In the town forrid here,' replied Jemmy. 'I'm in hopes I'll be able to reach it before dark. 'Pooh! asy you will. Have you any friends or acquaintances there that 'ud welcome you, a bouchal dhas (my handsome boy)?'

gers to me; but I can stop in "dhry lodgin"," "No, indeed,' said Jemmy, they're all stran for it's chaper.'

"Well, alanna, I believe you; but I'm no stranger to you-so come home wid me to-night; where you'll get a good bed, an' betther thratement nor in any of their dhry lodgins. Give me your books, an' I'll carry them for you. Ethen, but you have a great batch o' them entirely. Can you make any hand o' the Latin at all yet?'

sorrowfully; I didn't ever open a Latin book, "No, indeed,' replied Jemmy, somewhat

at all at all.'

"Well, acushla, everything has a beginnin'; -you won't be so. An' I know by your face that you'll be bright at it, an' a credit to them that owest you. There's my house in the fields beyant, where you'll be well kept for one night, any way, or for twinty, or for ten times twinty, if you wanted them.'

† Owns.

"The honest farmer then commenced the song of Colleen dhas Crotha na Mho, which he sang in a clear mellow voice, until they reached the house.

'Alley,' said the man, on entering, 'here's a stranger I've brought you.'

"Well,' replied Alley, he's welcome sure, any way; Kead millia failta ghud, alanna! sit over to the fire. Brian, get up, dear,' said she to one of the children, 'an' let the stranger to the hob.'

"He's goin' on a good errand, the Lord bless him!' said the husband, 'up the country for the larnin'. Put thim books over on the settle; an' whin the girshas are done milkin', give him a brave dhrink of the sweet milk; it's the stuff to thravel on?'

"Throth, an' I will, wid a heart an' a half, wishin' it was betther I had to give him. Here, Nelly, put down a pot o' wather, an' lave soap, afore you go to milk, till I bathe the dacent boy's feet. Sore an' tired they are afther his journey, poor young crathur.

The poor scholar is attacked by typhus while pursuing his studies, let us see the species of rural hospital to which he was consigned :

66

Perhaps it would be impossible to conceive a more gloomy state of misery than that in which young M'Evoy found himself. Stretched on the side of the public road, in a shed formed of a few loose sticks covered over with 'scraws,' that is, the sward of the earth pared into thin stripes, -removed above fifty perches from any human habitation-his body racked with a furious and oppressive fever-his mind conscious of all the horrors by which he was surrounded-without the comforts even of a bed or bed-clothes-and, what was worst of all, those from whom he might expect kindness, afraid to approach him! Lying helpless, under these circumstances, it ought not to be wondered at, if he wished that death might at once close his extraordinary sufferings, and terminate those struggles which filial piety had prompted him to encounter.

"Irishmen, however, are not just that description of persons who can pursue their usual avocations, and see a fellow-creature die, without such attentions as they can afford him; not precisely so bad as that, gentle reader! Jemmy had not been two hours on his straw, when a second shed much larger than his own, was raised within a dozen yards of it. In this a fire was lit; a small pot was then procured, milk was sent in, and such other little comforts brought together, as they supposed necessary for the sick boy. Having accomplished these matters, a kind of guard was set to watch and nurse-tend him; a pitchfork was got, on the prongs of which they intended to reach him bread across the ditch and a long-shafted shovel was borrowed, on which to furnish him drink with safety to themselves. That inextinguishable vein of humour, which in Ireland mingles even with death and calamity, was also visible here. The ragged half-starved creatures laughed heartily at the oddity of their own inventions, and enjoyed the ingenuity with which they made shift to meet the exigencies of the occasion, without in the slightest degree having their sympathy and concern for the afflicted youth lessened."

Let not the English reader believe this an exaggerated picture: we have ourselves witnessed many similar scenes. If asked, how is it possible that such things can occur in a country lavishly blessed by Providence?-we reply by displaying in the words of our author a system, of whose evils even such scenes are not the worst consequences:

"If there be a class of men deserving public sympathy, it is that of the small farmers of Ireland. Their circumstances are fraught with all The pretty girl milking her cow.

that is calculated to depress and ruin them; | rents far above their ability, increasing poverty, and bad markets. The land, which during the last war, might have enabled the renter to pay three pounds per acre, and yet still maintain himself with tolerable comfort, could not now pay more than one pound, or at the most, one pound ten; and yet, such is the infatuation of Landlords, that, in most instances, the terms of leases taken out then are rigorously exacted. Neither can the remission of yearly arrears be

said to strike at the root of the evils under which they suffer. The fact of the disproportionate rent hanging over them, is a disheartening circumstance, that paralyzes their exertion, and sinks their spirits. If a landlord remit the rent for one term, he deals more harshly with the tenant at the next: whatever surplus, if any, his former indulgence leaves in the tenant's hands, instead of being expended upon his property as capital, and being permitted to lay the foundation of hope and prosperity, is drawn from him, at next term, and the poor struggling tenant is thrown back into as much distress, embarrassment and despondency as ever. There are, I believe, few tenants in Ireland of the class I allude to, who are not from one gale to three in arrear. Now, how can it be expected, that such men will labour with spirit and earnestness to raise crops which they may never reap? crops which the landlord may seize upon to secure as much of his rent as he can.'

Even if this be insufficient, worse remains behind, we quote the following passage with the single comment that we know it to be the perfect truth.

"The facts of the case are these :-) -In Ireland the whole support of the inconceivable multitude of paupers, who swarm like locusts over the surface of the country, rests upon the middle and lower classes, or rather upon the latter, for there is scarcely such a thing in this unhappy country as a middle class. In not one out of a thousand instances do the gentry contribute to the mendicant poor. In the first place, a vast proportion of our landlords are absentees, who squander upon their own pleasures or vices, in the theatres, saloons, or gaming-houses of France, or in the softer profligacies of Italy, that which ought to return in some shape to stand in the place of duties so shamefully neglected. These persons contribute nothing to the poor, except the various evils which their absence entails upon them.

"On the other hand, the resident gentry never, in any case, assist a beggar, even in the remote parts of the country, where there are no Mendicity Institutions. Nor do the beggars ever think of applying to them. They know that his Honour's dogs would be slipped at them; or that the whip might be laid, perhaps, to the shoulders of a broken-hearted father, with his brood of helpless children wanting food; perhaps, upon the emaciated person of a miserable widow, who begs for her orphans, only because the hands that supported, and would have defended, both her and them, are mouldered into dust."

Is it any wonder that the unfortunate wretch, whose industry has only purchased starvation, adopts the following principle of morality?

"What signifies hangin' in a good cause?' said he, as the tears of keen indignation burst from his glowing eyes. It's a dacent death, an' a happy death, when it's for the right.""

'The Burning of Wildgoose Lodge' is an exemplification of the dreadful revenge exacted by the leaders of rustic insurrection; the tale of 'The Red Well' states the causes that lead of necessity to such awful scenes. The first tale in the third volume is less to our taste than any of the preceding; it is too

long, and the descriptions are exaggerated into extravagant caricature. The last story, 'Phelim O'Toole's Courtship,' is infinitely superior. Phelim is a scoundrel of higher grade than our old friend Phil Purcel; but he is amusing notwithstanding.

It is unnecessary for us to give a formal statement of the value we set upon these delineations of Irish life: we regret that the high price at which they are published, must limit their circulation; had they been brought out in three volumes, the size and price of Murray's Family Library, their utility would have been greatly increased, and their profit to the author certainly not diminished. In return for the gratification his works have afforded us, we beg leave to give him the friendly hint, that those who write of the people, should also publish for the people.

Il Paradiso Perduto di Milton, riportato in versi Italiani, da Guido Sorelli. London. THERE is much to praise in the spirit and industry with which Mr. Sorelli has pursued his bold undertaking. It is no ordinary man who could brood for ten years with patient satisfaction on the difficult phraseology of Milton, and toil night and day to find equivalents for its northern idioms, in the mellow harmonies of the south. The translation he has produced, will convey to his countrymen an idea of the original, sufficiently strong to secure him the thanks of both Englishmen and Italians. A severe Florentine writer may, perhaps, by the aid of Della Cruscan acuteness, find objections to some of the phrases which the desire of fidelity has led Mr. Sorelli to employ. He has dared much, and, therefore, must look for close handling; and there is no language on the turns and elegancies of which, criticism may employ itself with such a legitimate love of nicety, as the Italian. The passages of our great author, which seem to have assumed the foreign garb with most grace and readiness, are those in which we may evidently discover the effects of Milton's early studies. At the opening of the fifth book, an instance of this kind occurs, and the translator deserves great praise for the truth and elegance of his copy. The same remark will apply to portions of the fourth book. In the sublimer parts of the poem, Mr. Sorelli has evidently laboured to express the sense of his author with laudable accuracy; but the rapid succession of imagery, the solemn march and pomp of language which characterize the original in such passages, almost defy translation, and we can only expect to see them imitated by a man who prepares himself for the task by fasting and solitude.

Hood's Comic Annual for 1833. London: Tilt.

E

We have at our last hour received a copy of the genuine Comic Annual-Hood's Annual, and the perusal of it at once puts to rest all reports touching the want of life in the author. On the throne of fun he sits supreme over mouths stretched from ear to ear. And not only will he bear no brother near his throne-he will bear no sister's proximity. Miss Sheridan appears to have endeavoured to have had it thought, forgetting that kings never die, that Hood or his book was no more. She takes nothing by her motion, for the attempt at his destruction only gives fresh life to our inimitable humourist.

The present volume is perhaps,-strange to say, better, lighter, brighter, more varied than any of its predecessors. It has some admirable pleasantries on the passing follies

and cantisms of the day. It has some extraordinary ingenuities in the way of fun, rhyme, and versification. It has one bunch of bad spelling, from a servant-maid in Van Diemen's Land, which is quite a bouquet.

In order to afford our readers as much amusement at this late period as our room and time, or rather the want of both,-will permit, we will abstain from all further remark of our own, and proceed to extract. The following unfavourable review, gives a famous description of the disasters attending a wet field-day with the yeomanry. It will raise many a horse laugh.

"We set out from Ashford at ten, and was two hours getting to Bumper Daggle Bottom Common, but it's full six mile. The Bumper Daggle's dress is rather handsome and fighting like-blue, having a turn-up with white, and we might have been called cap-a-pee, but Mr. P. the contractor of our caps, made them all too small for our heads. Luckily the clothes fit, except Mr. Lambert's, who couldn't find a jacket big enough; but he scorned to shrink, and wore it loose on his shoulder, like a hussar. As for arms, we had all sorts, and as regards horses, I am sorry to say all sorts of legs-what with splints, and quitters, and ring-bone, and grease. The Major's, I noticed, had a bad spavin, and was no better for being fired with a ramrod, which old Clinker the blacksmith forgot to take out of his piece.

"We mustard very strong, about sixtybesides two volunteers, one an invalid, because he had been ordered to ride for exercise, and the other, because he had nothing else to do, and he did nothing when he came. We must have been a disagreeable site to eyes as is unaffected towards Government, though how Hopper's horse would behave in putting down riots I can't guess, for he did nothing but make revolutions himself, as if he was still in the thrashing mill. But you know yomanry an't reglers, and can't be expected to be veterans all at once. The worst of our mistakes was about the cullers. Old Ensign Cobb, of the White Horse, has a Political Union club meets at his house, and when he came to unfurl, he had brought the wrong flag: instead of Royal Bumper Daggle,' it was 'No Boromongers.' It made a reglar horse laugh among the cavalry; and Old Cobb took such dudgeon at us, he deserted home to the White Horse, and cut the concern without drawing a sword. The Captain ordered Jack Blower to sound the recal to him, but sum wag on the rout had stuck a bung up his trumpet; and he gallopped off just as crusty about it as Old Cobb. Our next trouble was with Simkin, but you know he is anything but Simkin and Martial. He rid one of his own docked waggonhorses-but for appearance sake had tied on a long regulation false tale, that made his horse kick astonishing, till his four loose shoes flew off like a game at koits. Of course nobody liked to stand nigh him, and he was obliged to be drawn up in single order by himself, but not having any one to talk to, he soon got weary of it, and left the ground. This was some excuse for him-but not for Dale, that deserted from his company, some said his horse bolted with him, but I'll swear I seed him spur. Up to this we had only one more deserter, and that was Marks, on his iron-grey mare; for she heard her foal whinnying at home, and attended to that call more than to a deaf and dumb trumpet.

Biggs didn't come at all; he had his nag stole that very morning, as it was waiting for him, pistols and all.

"We got thro' sword exercise decent well, -only Barber shaved Crofts' mare with his saber, which he needn't have done, as she was clipt before; and Holdsworth slashed off his cob's off ear. It was cut and run with her in

course; and I hope he got safe home. We don't know what Hawksley might have thrusted, as his sword objected to be called out in wet weather, and stuck to its sheath like pitch; but he went through all the cuts very correct with

his umbrella. For my own part, candour compels to state I swished off my left hand man's feather; but tho' it might have been worse, and I apologized as well as I could for my horse fretting, he was foolish enough to huff at, and swear was done on purpose, and so gallopped home, I suspect, to write me a calling out challenge. Challenge or not, if I fight him with anything but fists, I'm not one of the Yomanry. An accident's an accident, and much more pardonable than Hawksley opening his umbrella plump in the face of the Captain's blood charger; be carried back willy-nilly to Ashford, in the and ten times more mortifying for an officer to very middle of the Review. Luckily before Hawksley frightened any more, he was called

off to hold his umbrella over Mrs. H., as Mrs. Morgan had taken in nine ladies, and coud'nt accommodate more in her close carriage, without making it too close.

"After sword exercise we shot pistols, and I must say, very well and distinct; only, old Dunn didn't fire; but he's deaf as a post, and I wonder how he was called out."

The life of a Mr. William Whiston, a whist-player, appears to be a sketch from an original. But we select the following passage from a letter from a young matrimonial adventurer in Van Diemen's Land, charmingly

true to nature.

A LETTER FROM A SETTLER FOR LIFE
IN VAN DIEMEN'S LAND.

To Mary, at No. 45 Mount Street Grosvenor Square. "Dear Mary-Littel did I Think wen I advertisd in the 'T'ims for annother Plaice of taking wan in Vandemin's land. But so it his and hear I am amung Kangerooses and Savidges and other Forriners. But goverment offering to Yung Wimmin to Find them in Vittles and Drink and Close and Husbands was turms not be sneazed at, so I rit to the Outlandish Seckertary and he was so Kind as Grant.

Wen this cums to Hand go to Number 22 Pimpernel Place And mind and go betwixt Six and sevin For your own Sake cos then the fammilys Having Diner give my kind love to betty Housinad and Say I am safe of my Jurney to Forrin parts And I hope master as never Mist the wine and brought them into trubble on My accounts. But I did not Like to leav for Ever And Ever without treeting my Frends and feller servents and Drinking to all their fairwells. In my Flury wen the Bell rung I forgot to take My own Key out of missis Tekaddy but I hope sum wan had the thought And it is in Good hands but shall Be obleeged to no. Lickwise thro my Loness of Sperrits my lox of Hares quite went out of My Hed as was prommist to Be giv to Gorge and Willum and the too Futmen at the too next dores But I hop and Trust betty pacifid them with lox of Her hone as I begd to Be dun wen I rit Her from dover. O Mary wen I furst see the dover Wite clifts out of site wat with

squemishness and Felings I all most repentid givin Ingland warning And had douts if I was goin to better my self. But the stewerd was verry kind tho I could make Him no returns xcept by Dustin the ship for Him And helpin to wash up his dishes. Their was 50 moor Young Wimmin of us and By way of passing tim We agread to tell our Histris of our selves taken by Turns But they all turnd out Alick we had All left on acount of Testacious masters And crustacious Mississis and becos the Wurks was to much For our Strenths but betwixt yew and Me the reel truths was beeing Flirted with and unprommist by Perfidus yung men. sich exampils befour there Minds I wunder sum

With

of them was unprudent enuff to Lissen to the Salers whom are coverd with Pitch but famus Not stiking to there Wurds. has for Me the Mate chose to be verry Partickler wan nite

Setting on a Skane of Rops but I giv Him is Anser and lucky I did for Am infourmd he as Got too more Marred Wives in a state of Biggamy thank Goodness wan can marry in new Wurlds without mates. Since I have bean in My pressent Sitiation I have had between too and three offers for My Hands and expex them Evry day to go to fistcufs about Me this is sum thing lick treeting Wimmin as Wimmin ought to be treeted Nun of your sarsy Buchers and Backers as brakes there Promissis the sam as Pi Crust wen its maid Lite and shivvry And then laffs in Your face and say they can hav anny Gal they lick round the Square. I dont menshun nams but Eddard as drives the Fancy bred will no Wat I mean. As soon as ever the Botes rode to Land I dont agrivate the Truth to say their was haf a duzzin Bows apeace to Hand us out to shoar and sum go so Far as say they was offered to thro Specking Trumpits afore they left the Shipside."

"

The whole of the letter is in the same rare style of warm feeling and bad orthography. Rhyme and Reason' is extremely good, and is one of those discoveries which should be protected by patent.

RHYME AND REASON.

To the Editor of the Comic Annual. "SIR,-In your last Annual you have given insertion to A Plan for Writing Blank Verse in Rhyme;' but as I have seen no regular long poem constructed on its principles, I suppose the scheme did not take with the literary world. Under these circumstances I feel encouraged to bring forward a novelty of my own, and I can only regret that such poets as Chaucer and Cottle, Spenser and Hayley, Milton and Pratt, Pope and Pye, Byron and Batterbee, should have died before it was invented.

"The great difficulty in verse is avowedly the rhyme. Dean Swift says somewhere in his let ters, that a rhyme is as hard to find with him as a guinea,'-and we all know that guineas are proverbially scarce among poets. The merest versifier that ever attempted a Valentine must have met with this Orson, some untameable savage syllable that refused to chime in with society. For instance, what poetical Foxhunter -a contributor to the Sporting Magazine-bas not drawn all the covers of Beynard, Ceynard, Deynard, Feynard, Geynard, Heynard, Keynard, Leynard, Meynard, Neynard, Peynard, Quey nard, to find a rhyme for Reynard? The spirit of the times is decidedly against Tithe; and I know of no tithe more oppressive than that poetical one, in heroic measure, which requires that every tenth syllable shall pay a sound in kind. How often the poet goes up a line, only to be stopped at the end by an impracticable rhyme, like a bull in a blind alley! I have an ingenious medical friend, who might have been an eminent poet by this time, but the first line he wrote ended in ipecacuanha, and with all his physical and mental power, he has never yet been able to find a rhyme for it.

"The plan I propose aims to obviate this hardship. My system is, to take the bull by the horns; in short, to try at first what words will chime, before you go farther and fare worse. To say nothing of other advantages, it will at least have one good effect,-and that is, to correct the erroneous notion of the would-be poets and poetesses of the present day, that the great end of poetry is rhyme. I beg leave to present a specimen of verse, which proves quite the reverse, and am, Sir,

Your most obedient servant,
JOHN DRYDEN GRUBB.

The Double Knock.

Rat-tat it went upon the lion's chin,
"That hat, I know it!" cried the joyful girl;
"Summer's it is, I know him by his knock,
Comers like him are welcome as the day!
Lizzy go down and open the street door,
Busy I am to any one but him.

Know him you must he has been often here;
Show him up stairs, and tell him I'm alone."

Quickly the maid went tripping down the stair;
Thickly the heart of Rose Matilda beat;
"Sure he has brought me tickets for the play-
Drury-or Covent Garden-darling man!
Kemble will play-or Kean, who makes the soul
Tremble; in Richard or the frenzied Moor-
Farren, the stay and prop of many a farce
Barren beside-or Liston, Laughter's Child-
Kelly the natural, to witness whom
Jelly is nothing to the public's jam-
Cooper, the sensible-and Walter Knowles
Super, in William Tell-now rightly told.
Better-perchance, from Andrews, brings a box,
Letter of boxes for the Italian stage-
Brocard! Donzelli! Taglioni! Paul!

No card,-thank heaven-engages me to-night!
Feathers, of course, no turban, and no toque-
Weather's against it, but I'll go in curls.
Dearly I dote on white-my satin dress,
Merely one night-it won't be much the worse-

Cupid-the New Ballet I long to see. Stupid! why don't she go and ope the door!" Glisten'd her eye as the impatient girl Listen'd, low bending o'er the topmost stair. Vainly, alas; she listens and she bends, Plainly she hears this question and reply: "Axes your pardon, Sir, but what d'ye want?" "Taxes," says he, " and shall not call again!". We must edge in the following sonnet, as a warning to the young Frank Osbaldistons of the age.

Sonnet.

"Dornton and Co. may challenge the world: the house of Hope, perhaps, excepted."-Road to Ruin. Time was, I sat upon a lofty stool, At lofty desk, and with a clerkly pen Began each morning, at the stroke of ten, To write in Bell and Co.'s commercial school; In Warnford Court, a shady nook and cool, The favourite retreat of merchant men ; Yet would my quill turn vagrant even then, And take stray dips in the Castalian pool. Now double entry-now a flowery tropeMingling poetic honey with trade waxBlogg, Brothers-Milton-Grote and Prescott-Pope

Bristles-and Hogg-Glyn Mills and HalifaxRogers-and Towgood-Hemp-the Bard of HopeBarilla-Byron-Tallow-Burns-and Flax!

We have not room for the admirable Report of Stephen Humphrey, on the state of the farm belonging to the Zoological Society. But it is good enough to make a "Comic" of itself, and being built on the solid foundation of fact, the superstructure of fun is doubly splendid and whimsical.

The book will now, in a few days, be in the hands of all readers; and each person will as usual select his favourite pleasantry. Our pet, we must own, is 'The Report,' from which, however, we have foolishly left ourselves no space to quote. What will Mr. Vigors and the rest of the Fellows say?

We are enabled, according to annual custom, to give a specimen or two of the graphic jokes. The Cock of the Walk,' son, we believe, of The Strange Bird,' is, as Mr. Humphrey would say, "a rare specimint of the specious."