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the remainder of the world, but they will be long engraven on the hearts of the inhabitants of Chamouny.

The guide ceased, rose, and resumed the road to the vil lage. I followed in silence, after having given a last look to a monument raised by repentance to love, and ruminating on the mournful fate which had brought together two beings separated by the tumultuous events of life, and had consigned them to eternal rest beneath those rude and solitary cliffs at a distance from the friends of their childhood.

A ROWLAND FOR AN OLIVER;

OR, A TRIP TO GRETNA GREEN:

A BALLAD.

Tom Oliver, of milling fame,
To Gretna rode away;

A place renown'd for Hymen's Reign,
By old, and young, and gay.

But not on Matrimony bent,
Already noos'd was he-
To fight Jack Carter his intent,
He went quite full of glee.
Tom so long had been renown'd,
For a true Chick of Game;
That ev'ry fancy man was found
To trumpet forth his name.
Carter, younger in the trade-

Valour and strength his boast-
No such vaunting he display'd,
Nor ever "rul'd the roast."

Tom made quite sure to gain the Day
And was so very bold,

That ev'ry penny he did lay

(Some say his bed was sold.)

He likewise wrote unto his wife,

Before the fight began,

The day is mine-My dearest life!
Make all the bets you can.

"Stake both beer and butts, you may,
The Spirits and the Ale ;
Glasses, Pewter-pots, and tray,
Tap-tub, or-Slop pail.

"A larger house you must look out,
A better one we lack;

For I intend to give a rout

: As soon as I come back.

"You'd better up to Millbank go, Unto the Distillers;

More Spirits order, with Noyeau,

And treat flash friends with brimmers."

The day's now come, but weather wet,
All Carlisle is in motion;
With pockets lin'd prepared to bet,
All have a fighting notion.

Tag, rag, and bobtail, off they start,
They mind not weather muggy;
The roads are choak'd in ev'ry part
By tandem, coach, or buggy.

Arrived at the wish'd for Green,
Around the ring they get-
Pickpockets with lords to bet are seen
"Hay fellows, all well met."

The champions come, with allies fam'd,
The umpires at their station;
A Marquis and a Colonel nam'd,
Both milling men of fashion.

The Gauntlet thrown their fist's arranged,
With sparring they commence—
Carter struck first; few blows exchang'd,
Tom's forc'd upon the fence.

Hard fighting, left-hand blows,
Take place in many rounds;
From Tom's left peeper claret flows...
His chaps with hits resounds.

Carter lost claret from a wound
Made by Tom's right paw,

Who 'vantage had in 'leventh round,

And gained some eclat.

The scale's now turn'd, Dame Fortune smiles, Tom's friends repeated cheers;

But, fickle jade, she them beguiles,
Carter in wind appears.

Straight milling, fibbing, flinching, slips,
Each hard for vict'ry tries;
Till Carter plants two furious hits,
Which seals up both Tom's eyes.

Alas, poor Tom! thy fate drew near;
Carter advantage gets :

Tom's friends how shed the " 'briny tear,"
Sorrow their face bedecks.

But with clos'd eyes Tom scorn'd to flinch,
He still would persevere;

He prov'd bottom ev'ry inch.
Tho' vict'ry not his share.

He fought 'till rounds he'd thirty one,
Then, lost to sense and pow'r;
Carter with ease the battle won,
Poor Tom could do no more.

The greediest of the milling train,
With each were satisfied;

But none did feel of either's pain,
Nor card if both had died!

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

Grateful for the encouragement received, we regret our inability to insert all the communications forwarded to us. They will be noticed in due course, particularly "Christmas Eve."

We pledge ourselves to complete a volume, and we hope and trust to continue it for many years.

In reply to the observation that our interest would be better served by selecting light and frivolous articles: our answer is, that times have changed, and improved systems of education, must produce an enlarged spirit of inquiry, that no man "however vicious, desires to be thought a fool;" and carefully avoiding works of an immoral tendency, we presume an entertaining work may be furnished at a low price.

An outline engraving of the statue erected to the memory of Mr. Fox, is

in hand..

The travels of Ali Bey, read before the National Institute of France, (and since translated into English) will shortly be noticed. It is a valuable but very expensive work.

The Amusing Chronicle is published at No. 6, Gilbert's Passage, Portugal street, and served at the houses of the subscribers, in the same manner as newspapers and magazines.

G. Stobbs, Printer, Catherine Street, Strand.

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