"I hope you'll protect me, kind sir," said the maid, As to ride this heath over I am sadly afraid; For robbers, they say, here in numbers abound, The maiden she smiled, and the rein she drew, 66 Now give me your gold, or I'll give you my lead: 'Tis under the saddle, I think you said." And the damsel ripp'd up the saddle-bow, "The spirit doth move me, friend Broadbrim," quoth she, "And hark, jolly Quaker, so rosy and sly, "So fire a few shots through my coat here and there, So Jim he popp'd first through the skirts of his coat, And then through his collar, quite close to his throat; "Now once through my broadbrim," quoth Ephraim, “I vote.” "I have but a brace," said bold Jim, "and they're spent, And I won't load again for a make-believe rent." "Then," said Ephraim, producing his pistols, "just give My five hundred pounds back, or, as sure as you live, I'll make of your body a riddle or sieve." Jim Barlow was diddled-and though he was game, He saw Ephraim's pistol so deadly in aim, That he gave up the gold, and he took to his scrapers; They said that the thieves were no match for the Quakers. 6.-VAT YOU PLEASE. J. R. PLANCHE, F.S.A. [James Robinson Planché is the oldest and one of the most successful dramatists of the day; his first burlesque was performed at Drury Lane Theatre in 1818, and since then he has placed upon the stage nearly two hundred pieces. All Mr. Planché's pieces exhibit a facile command of versification, a flow of genuine, not forced, wit, with occasional dashes of true poetry. As an antiquarian he takes a high position, his works on ancient costume being the recognised authorities. Mr. Planché holds the appointment of Rouge Croix Pursuivant.] SOME years ago, when civil faction Raged like a fury through the fields of Gaul, Were taught to curse as soon as they could squall; To put folks more on an equality; When coronets were not worth half-a-crown, Sans cash, sans clothes, and almost sans everything! Two Messieurs who about this time came over, Half-starved, but toujours gai (No weasels e'er were thinner), Trudged up to town from Dover; Their slender store exhausted on the way, Extremely puzzled how to get a dinner. From morn till noon, from noon to dewy eve, This happen'd on a day most dear Sanctions the roasting of the sav'ry goose. While greedily he snuff'd the luscious gale in, And snuff'd and long'd, and long'd and snuff'd again. (A proverb I've heard many mention); So now one moment saw his plan completed, And our sly Frenchman at a table seated. The ready waiter at his elbow stands "Sir, will you favour me with your commands? "We've roast and boil'd, sir; choose you those or these ?" "Sare! you are very good, sare! Vat you please." Quick at the word, Upon the table smokes the wish'd-for bird. No time in talking did he waste, But pounced pell-mell upon it; Drum-stick and merry-thought he pick'd in haste, And now our Frenchman, having ta'en his fill, 66 66 I call for noting, sare-pardonnez moi! You bring me vat you call your goose, your cheese, To make him pay some would be rather funny), Acknowledged much was to be said for it; Our Frenchman's hunger, thus subdued, When, turning round the corner of a street, Who but his countryman he chanced to meet! To him, with many a shrug and many a grin, Fired with the tale, the other licks his chops, The waiter turned as pale as Paris plaster, Too much of one thing-the proverb's somewhat musty,— But when a second time they tried the treason, There is a kind of instrument Which greatly helps a serious argument, "Twould make more clumsy folks than Frenchmen skip, Most carefully concealed beneath his coat; Our Frenchman bowing to his threadbare knees, Than round his shoulders twines the pliant whip! 66 Sare, sare! misericorde, parbleu! Oh dear, monsieur, vat make you use me so? Vat you call dis ?" "Oh, don't you know? That's what I please," says Bonny, "how d'ye like it? Your friend, although I paid dear for his funning, Deserved the goose he gained, sir, for his cunning; But you, monsieur, or else my time I'm wasting, Are goose enough, and only wanted basting." 7.-MODERN LOGIC. ANONYMOUS. AN Eton stripling, training for the Law, With all the deathless bards of Greece and Rome, Arrived, and passed the usual "How d'ye do's," "Well, Tom, the road, what saw you worth discerning, That an eel-pie's a pigeon :-to deny it, Were to swear black's white."—" Indeed !"—" Let's try it. An eel-pie is a pie of fish.” 66 Agreed." "A fish-pie may be a Jack-pie.""Well, 66 proceed." "A Jack-pie must be a John-pie-thus, 'tis done, What ?" My chesnut horse." He went to bed and wept for downright sorrow To think the night must pass before the morrow; Dream'd of his boots, his cap, his spurs, and leather breeches, Of leaping five-barr'd gates, and crossing ditches; Left his warm bed an hour before the lark, And dragged his Uncle, fasting, through the park:- A fine horse-chesnut in its prickly shell— 66 There, Tom, take that.”—“ 'Well, sir, and what beside ?" Why, since you're booted, saddle it and ride! "Ride what?-a chesnut!-" "Ay; come, get across. And all the horse you'll get: for I can show |