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With two pear-trees that don't bear; one plum and an apple, that every year is stripped by a thief.

There's another small day-school too, kept by the respectable Mrs. Gaby,

A select establishment, for six little boys and one big, and four little girls and a baby;

There's a rectory, with pointed gables and strange odd chimneys that never smokes,

For the rector don't live on his living like other Christian sort of folks;

There's a barber's, once-a-week well filled with rough black-bearded shock-headed churls,

And a window with two feminine men's

heads, and two masculine ladies in false

curls;

There's a butcher's, and a carpenter's, and a plumber's, and a small green-grocer's,

and a baker,

But he won't bake on a Sunday, and there's a sexton that's a coal-merchant besides, and an undertaker;

And a toy-shop, but not a whole one, for a village can't compare with the London shops;

One window sells drums, dolls, kites, carts, batts, Clout's balls, and the other sells malt and hops.

And Mrs. Brown in domestic economy not to be a bit behind her betters,

Lets her house to a milliner, a watchmaker, a rat-catcher, a cobbler, lives in it herself, and it's the post-office for letters.

Now, I've gone through all the village—ay, from end to end, save and except one more house,

But I haven't come to that-and I hope I

never shall—and that's the village Poor-House!

THE OLD GOVERNMENT CLERK.

By F. LOCKER.

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We knew an old Scribe, it was once on a

time,❞—

An era to set sober datists despairing ;Then let them despair! Darby sat in a

chair

Near the cross that gave name to the village of Charing.

Though silent and lean, Darby was not malign,

What hair he had left was more silver

than sable;

He had also contracted a curve in his spine

From bending too constantly over a table.

I

His pay and expenditure, quite in accord, Were both on the strictest economy

founded;

His masters were known as the Sealing-wax Board,

Who ruled where red tape and snug places abounded.

In his heart he looked down on this dignified knot,—

For why, the forefather of one of these

senators,

A rascal concerned in the Gunpowder Plot, Had been barber-surgeon to Darby's progenitors.

Poor fool! Life is all a vagary of Luck,— Still, for thirty long years of genteel destitution

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