A SAD CASE.

"If it be the undergraduate season at which this rabies religiosa is to be so fearful, what security has Mr. G-lb-n against it at this moment, when his son is actually exposed to the full venom of an association with Dissenters?"- The Times, March 25.

How sad a case!-just think of it—
If G-lb-n junior should be bit
By some insane Dissenter, roaming
Through Granta's halls, at large and foaming,
And with that aspect, ultra crabbed
Which marks Dissenters when they're rabid !
God only knows what mischiefs might
Result from this one single bite,

Or how the venom, once suck'd in,
Might spread and rage through kith and kin.
Mad folks, of all denominations,
First turn upon their own relations :
So that one G-lb-n, fairly bit,
Might end in maddening the whole kit,
Till, ah, ye gods, we'd have to rue
Our G-lb-n senior bitten too;
The Hychurchphobia in those veins,
Where Tory blood now redly reigns ;-
And that dear man, who now perceives
Salvation only in lawn sleeves,
Might, tainted by such coarse infection,
Run mad in the' opposite direction,
And think, poor man, 'tis only given
To linsey-woolsey to reach Heaven!

Just fancy what a shock 'twould be
Our G-lb-n in his fits to see,
Tearing into a thousand particles
His once lov'd Nine and Thirty Articles;
(Those Articles his friend, the Duke, '
For Gospel, t'other night, mistook ;)
Cursing cathedrals, deans, and singers-
Wishing the ropes might hang the ringers-
Pelting the church with blasphemies,
Even worse than Parson B-v—rl—y's ; —
And ripe for severing Church and State,
Like any creedless reprobate,

Or like that class of Methodists
Prince Waterloo styles "Atheists !"

But 'tis too much—the Muse turns pale, And o'er the picture drops a veil, Praying, God save the G-lb-rns all From mad Dissenters, great and small!

1 The Duke of Wellington, who styled them "the Articles of Christianity."

A DREAM OF HINDOSTAN.

- risum teneatis, amici.

"THE longer one lives, the more one learns," Said I, as off to sleep I went,

Bemus'd with thinking of Tithe concerns,
And reading a book, by the Bishop of FERNS, 2
On the Irish Church Establishment.
But, lo, in sleep, not long I lay,

When Fancy her usual tricks began,
And I found myself bewitch'd away
To a goodly city in Hindostan —
A city, where he, who dares to dine

On aught but rice, is deem'd a sinner;
Where sheep and kine are held divine,
And, accordingly-never drest for dinner.

And my slumber fled, and my dream was sped, And I found I was lying snug in bed,

With my nose in the Bishop of FERNS' book.

THE BRUNSWICK CLUB.

A letter having been addressed to a very distinguished personage, requesting him to become the Patron of this Orange Club, a polite answer was forthwith returned, of which we have been fortunate enough to obtain a copy.

Brimstone-hall, September 1. 1828.

Private.-Lord Belzebub presents
To the Brunswick Club his compliments,
And much regrets to say that he
Cannot, at present, their Patron be.
In stating this, Lord Belzebub

Assures, on his honour, the Brunswick Club,

That 'tisn't from any lukewarm lack
Of zeal or fire he thus holds back-
As even Lord Coal1 himself is not
For the Orange party more red-hot :
But the truth is, till their Club affords
A somewhat decenter show of Lords,
And on its list of members gets
A few less rubbishy Baronets,
Lord Belzebub must beg to be
Excus'd from keeping such company.

Who the devil, he humbly begs to know,
Are Lord Gl-nd-ne, and Lord D-nlo?
Or who, with a grain of sense, would go
To sit and be bor'd by Lord M--yo?
What living creature-except his nurse—
For Lord M-ntc-sh-l cares a curse,
Or thinks 'twould matter if Lord M-sk-rry
Were t'other side of the Stygian ferry?
Breathes there a man in Dublin town,
Who'd give but half of half-a-crown

To save from drowning my Lord R-thd-ne,
Or who wouldn't also gladly hustle in

Lords R-d-n, B-nd-n, C-le, and J-c-l-n?
In short, though, from his tenderest years,
Accustom'd to all sorts of Peers,

Lord Belzebub much questions whether
He ever yet saw, mix'd together,

As 'twere in one capacious tub,

Such a mess of noble silly-bub

As the twenty Peers of the Brunswick Club.
'Tis therefore impossible that Lord B.
Could stoop to such society,

1 Usually written "Cole."

As Whig Reform has had its range,
And none of us are yet content,
Suppose, my friends, by way of change,
We try a Female Parliament;
And since, of late, with he M. P.'s
We've far'd so badly, take to she's -
Petticoat patriots, flounc'd John Russells,
Burdetts in blonde, and Broughams in bustles.
The plan is startling, I confess -
But 'tis but an affair of dress;
Nor see I much there is to choose
"Twixt Ladies (so they're thorough bred ones)
In ribands of all sorts of hues,

Or Lords in only blue or red ones.

At least, the fiddlers will be winners,
Whatever other trade advances;

As then, instead of Cabinet dinners,

We'll have, at Almack's, Cabinet dances; Nor let this world's important questions Depend on Ministers' digestions.

If Ude's receipts have done things ill,

To Weippert's band they may go better; There's Lady **, in one quadrille,

Would settle Europe, if you'd let her: And who the deuce or asks, or cares, When Whigs or Tories have undone 'em, Whether they've danc'd through State affairs, Or simply, dully, din'd upon 'em?

Hurrah then for the Petticoats!

To them we pledge our free-born votes; We'll have all she, and only she

Pert blues shall act as "best debaters," Old dowagers our Bishops be,

And termagants our Agitators.

If Vestris, to oblige the nation,

Her own Olympus will abandon, And help to prop the' Administration,

It can't have better legs to stand on. The fam'd Macaulay (Miss) shall show, Each evening, forth in learn'd oration; Shall move (midst general cries of "Oh!") For full returns of population: And, finally, to crown the whole, The Princess Olive, Royal soul, Shall from her bower in Banco Regis, Descend, to bless her faithful lieges, And, 'mid our Union's loyal chorus, Reign jollily for ever o'er us.

Sir,

TO THE EDITOR OF THE *

Having heard some rumours respecting the strange and awful visitation under which Lord H-nl-y has for some time past been suffering, in consequence of his declared hos

tility to "anthems, solos, duets 2," &c., I took the liberty of making enquiries at his Lordship's house this morning, and lose no time in transmitting to you such particulars as I could collect. It is said that the screams of his Lordship, under the operation of this nightly concert, (which is, no doubt, some trick of the Radicals,) may be heard all over the neigh

bourhood. The female who personates St. Cecilia is supposed

to be the same that, last year, appeared in the character of Isis, at the Rotunda. How the cherubs are managed, I have not yet ascertained.

Yours, &c.

As, once the thing's well set about, No doubt but we shall hunt him out.

His Lordship's mind, of late, they say,
Hath been in an uneasy way
Himself and colleagues not being let
To climb into the Cabinet,

To settle England's state affairs,
Hath much, it seems, unsettled theirs;
And chief to this stray Plenipo
Hath been a most distressing blow.
Already,-certain to receive a
Well-paid mission to the Neva,
And be the bearer of kind words
To tyrant Nick from Tory Lords,—
To fit himself for free discussion,
His Lordship had been learning Russian;
And all so natural to him were

The accents of the Northern bear,

That, while his tones were in your ear, you
Might swear you were in sweet Siberia.
And still, poor Peer, to old and young,
He goes on raving in that tongue;
Tells you how much you would enjoy a
Trip to Dalnodoubrowskoya; 3
Talks of such places, by the score, on
As Oulisfflirmchinagoboron, 4

And swears (for he at nothing sticks)

That Russia swarms with Raskol-niks, 5

Though one such Nick, God knows, must be

A more than ample quantity.

Such are the marks by which to know

This stray'd or stolen Plenipo;

And whosoever brings or sends

The unhappy statesman to his friends, On Carlton Terrace, shall have thanks, And any paper but the Bank's.

P.S. Some think, the disappearance
Of this our diplomatic Peer hence
Is for the purpose of reviewing,
In person, what dear Mig is doing
So as to 'scape all tell-tale letters
'Bout B-s-d, and such abettors,—
The only "wretches" for whose aid
Letters seem not to have been made.

Written at that memorable crisis when a distinguished Duke, then Prime Minister, acting under the inspirations of Sir Cl-d-s H-nt-r and other City worthies, advised his Majesty to give up his announced intention of dining with the Lord Mayor.

2 Among other remarkable attributes by which Sir Cl-d-s distinguished himself, the dazzling whiteness of his favourite steed was not the least conspicuous.

3 In the Government of Perm.

4 Territory belonging to the mines of Kolivano-Kosskres

sense.

5 The name of a religious sect in Russia. "Il existe en Russie plusieurs sectes; la plus nombreuse est celle des Raskol-niks, ou vrai-croyants."-GAMBA, Voyage dans la Russie Méridionale.

"Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid."

РОРЕ.

Our Exeter stood forth to caper,

As high on the floor as he doth on paper-
Much like a dapper Dancing Dervise,
Who pirouettes his whole church-service-
Performing, 'midst those reverend souls,
Such entrechats, such cabrioles,
Such balonnés, such-rigmaroles,
Now high, now low, now this, now that,
That none could guess, what the devil he'd be at ;
Though, watching his various steps, some thought
That a step in the Church was all he sought.

But alas, alas! while thus so gay,
These reverend dancers frisk'd away,

Nor Paul himself (not the saint, but he

Of the Opera-house) could brisker be,

There gather'd a gloom around their glee

A shadow, which came and went so fast,

That ere one could say, ""Tis there," 'twas past—

And, lo, when the scene again was clear'd,
Ten of the dancers had disappear'd!

Ten able-bodied quadrillers swept

From the hallow'd floor where late they stept,
While twelve was all that footed it still,
On the Irish side of that grand Quadrille !