8.-LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN. GEORGE COLMAN THE YOUNGER. [See page 358.] WHO has e'er been in London, that over-grown place, Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely, He enter'd his rooms, and to bed he retreated; But all the night long he felt fever'd and heated; He was not, by any means, heavy to sleep. Next night 'twas the same! and the next! and the next! In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him; "I have lost many pounds-make me well, there's a guinea." The doctor look'd wise:-" A slow fever," he said; Prescribed sudorifics, and going to bed. 66 Sudorifics in bed," exclaimed Will," are humbugs!" Will kick'd out the doctor :-but when ill indeed, "Look ye, landlord, I think," argued Will with a grin, But from the first night-and to say it I'm bold- Quoth the landlord, "Till now, I ne'er had a dispute; "The oven!" says Will;-says the host, "Why this passion? Will paid for his rooms: cried the host, with a sneer, 66 Friend, we can't well agree; yet no quarrel," Will said: "But I'd rather not perish, while you make your bread." 9.-RABELAIS AND THE LAMPREYS. HORACE SMITH. [Horace Smith was the younger of the two brothers, James and Horace Smith, born respectively 1775 and 1779. Their first effusions were contributed to the "Pic Nic," a periodical established in 1802, and some of their best things appeared in the "New Monthly Magazine," under its first editorship, that of Thomas Campbell. In 1812 the work appeared with which their names will always be associated. The committee of Drury Late Theatre offered a prize for the best address to be spoken at the opening of that edifice; they failed to obtain one to their taste. Lord Byron was therefore applied to, and he supplied the one which was spoken. The Smiths then brought out their work, which purported to be "The Rejected Addresses," in which the various styles of the then popular writers were imitated with marvellous fidelity. Twenty-two editions were subsequently sold. James appears to have written no longer, but Horace became a hard-working and successful literary labourer. His "Brambletye House" almost equals in merit many of Scott's novels. He died in 1849, surviving his brother ten years.] WHEN the eccentric Rabelais was physician Not like the medical magician Who whisked from Sancho Panza's fauces But to protect his sacred master The action of the epigastre, The Cardinal, one hungry day, First having with his eyes consumed Had plunged his fork into the prey, "Hi! hallo! bring the lampreys here!" The whole was instantly dispatched. Then swallow it before my sight ?" But as to this unlucky fish, With you so strangely out of favour, Not only 'tis a wholesome dish, But one of most delicious flavour." 10. MY OLD HAT. ANONYMOUS. I HAD a hat-it was not all a hat, Part of the brim was gone-yet still I wore A change came o'er the colour of my hat. That which was black grew brown-and then men stared The wonder now was two-fold; and it seemed The hat was worn and borne. Then folks grew wild With curiosity, and whispers rose, And questions passed about-how one so trim In coats, boots, ties, gloves, trousers, could insconce A change came o'er the nature of my hat. Grease-spots appeared-but still in silence, on Thoughts that do lie too deep for common minds- A change came o'er the business of this hat. Friendship itself proved faithless for a hat. A change, it was the last, came o'er this hat, Of Israel's fated race-and friends once more Once more I went my way, along, along, And plucked no wondering gaze: the hand of scorn With its annoying finger, men and dogs Once more grew pointless, jokeless, laughless, growlless And at last, not least of rescued blessings, love! Love smiled on me again, when I assumed A bran new chapeau of the Melton build; And then the laugh was mine, for then out came 11.-THE RIVAL BROOM MAKERS. DR. JOHN WOLCOT. [Better known as "Peter Pindar." An unscrupulous satirist and an unpatriotic man; redeemed only by his wit. He failed both as a divine and a physician. Boru 1738; died 1819.] A THIEVING fellow, naturally sly, 66 Cheaper than all the world," his wares would cry, For sweeping stables, gardens, hearths, or rooms," And wisely thought a pretty purse to have made, That travelled far and wide the country round, Scratching his wig he left 'em, musing deep, And just as musical, rung in his ears, like thunder (Half-splitting his thick head, and wig cramm'd full of wonder), With roaring out " Cheap brooms!" O'erjoyed he meets His brother brush, and thus the rascal greets : "How, how the devil, brother rogue, do I Hear my old friends sing out a general cry That I'm a knave! then growl like bears, and tell me That you do more Than all the world could ever do before, And, in this self-same broom-trade, undersell me? ("Twixt you and I), I own, I now and then have stole the stuff!" "Ah!" (quoth his brother thief, a dog far deeper) I "I see, my boy, you haven't half learnt your trade: go a cheaper way to work than that.” "A cheaper!" 66 Why, ay-I always steal mine ready made.' |