I likes Latin.-A little larning is a dangerous thingdrink deep, or a fig for larning, says my father; or if he larns any thing, let him larn to shave, and as to drinking deep, he'll larn that from his father.-So instead of being a man of letters, I can barely tell them, and am left with all my imperfections on my head, to shave, dress hair, comb wigs, and retail Day and Martin's blacking, Russia oil, pomatum, and powder, and instead of wearing a counsellor's wig, to be constantly employed in keeping it in curl, while the only bar I ever pleaded at is the bar of old Score'em, though I generally contrive to pay my way; I wish every tradesman could put his hand to his heart and say as much-we should then see fewer dividends of a shilling in the pound, and the credit of old England keep up its ancient vigour.

So, with scissors, comb, and lather

I a sufficient harvest gather,
To keep open the barber's shop,
The barber's shop,

The barber's shop,

To keep open the barber's shop.
Should my customers e'er vapour
I show 'em an old paper,
Which I beg 'em to peruse;
Should they find the cheat, sirs,
There patience entreat, sirs,

Which they seldom or e'er refuse.
For by this time I contrive,

My business quick to drive,

And be ready their beards to mow,
And be ready their beards to mow;
Of me you're making fun,

Sir, I tell you I've just done,

Mr. Latherem, here, hollo.

Spoken.] Mr. Feeble, shall I shave you? your beard's in a sad condition, like the times-Don't talk to me of the times, for I've no time to talk to you

How's Mrs. Feeble, sir?-Mind your business, and don't pester me-if you move your head, I shall do your business-Mr. Ledderum, dat blacking you sould me is all turned brown, burn my caxon, but I've a great desire to give you, for de blacking, a black eye; devil de drop of Day and Martin was dere; no, by de powers, it was all Betty Martin-Sir, if you'll return it-Tunder and turf, return it, how, you shabroon, d'ye think I'm to do that? didn't I tell you, do I forget to mention it, dat I had used every sup of it-Well, sir, I hope we shall make matters up over a glass of Geneva-Oh! and is it dat you're after, oh! musha, my darling, you're a nate little bottle seller; here's to ould Ireland-here's may animosity be washed away by the soap-suds of oblivion; may the voice of the people never be cut in two by the razor of discord, and may the shop of justice never be shut when honesty knocks at the door.

So, with scissors, comb, and lather, &c.

ON THE DOWNFALL OF POLAND

O SACRED Truth! thy triumph ceased awhile,
And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile,
When leagued Oppression poured to Northern wars,
Her whiskered pandours and her fierce hussars,
Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn,
Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn;
Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van,
Presaging wrath to Poland-and to man!

Warsaw's last champion, from her height survey'd Wide o'er the fields a waste of ruin laid,—

"O Heaven!" he cried, "my bleeding country save!
Is there no hand on high can shield the brave?
Yet though destruction sweep those lovely plains,
Rise fellow-men! our COUNTRY yet remains!

thy coat, too, shows thine owner's care He, doubtless, liked thee (as Indians do their food) well curried!

Farewell, Edward, I exclaimed-too serious on the occasion to use the familiar epithet of Neddy.

I heard footsteps: I saw a man approaching the spot I had just quitted: he was a tall raw-bonedlooking gipsey. Concealed from observation by the intervening hedge, I watched his motions.

I saw him stride across the animal. Drawing a clasp-knife from his breast, he looked wistfully around him. I had often heard of famished Russians devouring their horses. What did he meditate?

Keen hunger was depicted in his sharp countenance. The vagrant wielded his knife-I stood breathless -the next moment I saw him cut a huge stake. "From the donkey?"

No, Madam from the adjoining hedge.

NOSE AND EYES.

BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose,
The spectacles set them unhappily wrong;
The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,
To which the said spectacles ought to belong.

So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause,
With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning,
While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws,

So famed for his talent in nicely discerning.

"In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear,
And your lordship" he said, "will undoubtedly find,
That the Nose has had spectacles always to wear,
Which amounts to possession time out of mind."

Then holding the spectacles up to the court-
"Your lordship observes they are made with a
straddle,

As wide as the ridge of the nose is! in short,
Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.

"Again, would your worship a moment suppose
(Tis a case that has happened, and may be again,)
That the visage or countenance had not a Nose,

Pray who would, or who could wear spectacles then? "On the whole it appears, and my argument shows, With a reasoning the court will never condemn, That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose, And the Nose was as plainly intended for them." Then, shifting his side, (as a lawyer knows how,) He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes; But what were his arguments few people know, For the court did not think they were equally wise. So his lordship decreed, with a grave, solemn tone, Decisive and clear, without one if or butThat whenever the Nose put his spectacles on, By day-light or candle-light,-Eyes should be shut!

I VANT TO FLY.

DURING the last war there were a number of French officers, in an inland town, on their parole of honour. Now, one gentleman, being tired with the usual routine of eating, drinking, gambling, smoking, &c., and therefore, in order to amuse himself otherwise, resolved to go a fishing. His host supplied him with a rod and line, but being in want of artificial flies, went in search of a fishing-tackle-maker's shop. Having found one, kept by a plain pains taking John Bull, our Frenchman entered, and with a bow, a cringe, and a shrug of the shoulders, thus began :

:

By that dread name, we wave the sword on high,
And swear for her to live!—with her to die!"

He said, and on the rampart heights arrayed
His trusty warriors, few, but undismay'd:
Firm paced and slow, a horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm!
Low, murmuring sounds along their banner fly,
REVENGE, OR DEATH!-The watchword and reply;
Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm,
And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm!

In vain-alas! in vain ye gallant few!
From rank to rank your vollied thunder flew :
O! bloodiest picture in the book of time,
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime!
Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe,
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe!
Dropt from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear,
Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career;
Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell,
And freedom shrieked-as KOSCIUSKO fell!

The sun went down nor ceased the carnage there, Tumultuous murder shook the midnight airOn Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glowHis blood-dyed waters murmuring far below. The storm prevails! the rampart yields awayBursts the wild cry of horror and dismay! Hark! as the mouldering piles with thunder fall. A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call! Earth shook!-red meteors flashed along the sky! And conscious nature shuddered at the cry!

O righteous Heaven! ere Freedom found a grave, Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save!

Where was thine arm, O Vengeance! where thy rod,
That smote the foes of Zion and of God?

That crushed proud Ammon, when his iron car
Was yoked in wrath, and thundered from afar?