Suppose, then, Eve and Adam talking, For though I've tongue and often talk, Not such an end, but I can breathe; MR. EDITOR, ANSWERED. READING in your Paper of yesterday, January 30th, the Poetical Enigma, I beg to enclose to you the following solution, by a Lady, a relative; and to observe, that I, from my connexions, am not without a knowledge of the original Composer, who was a Reverend popular Preacher, and has been deceased many years. Jan. 31, 1812. Yours, A CONSTANT Reader. THAT you 're a strange old-fashion'd creature, It my conjecture's right; You 've plagu'd and puzzled my poor brains, I'll show a woman's spite. But we have perseverance too, My Bedfellow you'll be; Though 't will be strange and something new, If there you 're plac'd by me. That That fashions change full well we know, Is now completely routed; But now such freaks are scouted. Then boast no more your ancient birth. Whence sprung we all? From mother Earth, (Into the bargain take it.) Sir Adam's cot, and Lady Eve's, Had but one bed-that dress'd with leaves, But now 't is quite an alter'd story, Go, hide your poor diminish'd head; BASIA'S IMPROMPTU, OCCASIONED BY THE CIRCUMSTANCE OF A LADY DIS PENSING TO SOME GENTLEMEN, SUGAR KISSES, WHICH SHE PREVIOUSLY KISSED. [From the Morning Chronicle, Jan. 30.] ON ONE FOLDING THE KISS CAREFULLY IN PAPER. NO, envious Air! this paper shall secure My Sarah's kiss, so balmy, yet so pure! Go, envious Air! nor strive to steal my kiss! Who would not steal, if stealing be such bliss? On sugar refiners let Parliament men Harangue with their tongues, and descant with their pen r For myself, I've a process that's more to my mindSugar kiss'd by my Sarah is double refin'd! "Only double refin'd!" says an amorous Hector; << I swear by the Gods, 't is celestial nectar !" Only nectar! cried *****-Mr. Hector (between us) "I hope you 'll allow, 't is the nectar of Venus!" ONE OF THE GENTLEMEN, ON 'RECEIVING THE KISS, IN THE TRUE SPIRIT OF GALLANTRY, SWALLOWED IT, PAPER AND ALL! Cleopatra ('t is said), in a prodigal mood, A jewel dissolv'd in a vinegar cruet: Then wow'd with delight, as she quaff'd the rich flood, Friend determin'd both Monarchs and Queens In prodigal feasts to eclipse out and over, Eats the kiss that was kiss'd by a Miss in her Teens— Friend B. what tongue thy praise can e'er impart, P.W.B. EXTRACT FROM AN IRISH OBITUARY. [From the same.] EPARTED this Island, in the second year of hist Secretaryship, W. Wellesley, originally, and more recently Pole, sincerely lamented by a number of place-hunting Freeholders in the Queen's County, and all jobbing Parsons, Castle runners, lickspittle Editors, and other Union vermin, that swarm in the cupboard of a provincial Court. The whole body of the Roman Catholics are inconsolable at his loss; as, if he had remained a year longer, he would have effectuated the measure of Emancipation, which, by his indefatigable labours, he so materially promoted and matured. The body (which was transported to England, to be deposited in the Treasury-the family burying burying-place) was followed to the shore by the great Law Officers, in hatbands and weepers; the Duke, Sir Charles Vernon, Mr. Hare, the Police Magistrate, Major Sirr, Sir Arthur Clarke, K. B. and Sir Edward Littlehales, were distinguished in the melancholy procession-as were Dr. Duigenan and Sir Richard Musgrave. A Cenotaph is immediately to be erected in the centre of Fishamble Street, sacred to the memory of this infatuated Statesman, on which the following plain yet energetic distich is to be engraved in golden characters-they are said, we know not with what truth, to be from the luminous pen of the Author of Love in a Blaze and other admired productions Here lies what remains of W. W. Who never more will trouble you, trouble you LINES ON MONSIEUR LUCIEN BUONAPARTE'S MOTTO, NON URO." [From the same.] A WAG, requested to translate "LUCEO The motto on the coach of state THE BLUE STOCKINGS OF DUBLIN. ABOUT a month since there was a supper party at the Castle of Dublin. It consisted chiefly of Blue-Stockings, for orange is not the only colour patronized there. The beautiful Lady, who, like l'immortelle Emilie, is equally known in L'algèbre, les soupers, les Latins, les jupons, asked the learned Doctor (who is almost as versatile as her Ladyship), whether there had been any new discovery in astronomy lately? "Why, yes, Madam," answered the Professor-fixing his eyes at the same time upon the little Ch-f S-cr-t-ry— "I have discovered, since I came to Dublin, that the elevation of the Pole is not always equal to the latitude of the Place." Lady stared-the Secretary was confused-the words bore an evident allusion to the latitude of his Place-which was no less than two places thrown into one-and to the very little elevation of mind which he had shown in either of them. "Hem!" said the Secretary, and at the same time summoning forth a portion of that uppishness which he and his family have found such a marketable substitute for dignity, cast a look of profound contempt at the Professor, as much as to say that he cared as little for an Astronomer as he would for an Inspecteur de Pavé-Lady, however, could tell him, there was all the difference in life between them. The conversation then turned upon optics, and the Doctor was proceeding, with his usual eloquence, to explain the uses of the aqueous humour in the eye; when his G-ce, interrupting him, protested against the introduction of any thing aqueous, and said he could tell him of another sort of drop in the eye, which never failed to double its powers of vision. So the wine went round as usual, and the science was put off to a more lucid interval. EPIGRAM ON NAPOLEON'S MARRIAGE. [From the same.] PUTTING by Josephine, to espouse a new Queen, And though strange it appear to us Islanders here, TUB |