THE Budget-quite charming and witty-no hear-"I," said the Bank, "though he play'd me a prank, ing, For plaudits and laughs, the good things that were in it ; Great comfort to find, though the Speech isn't checring, That all its gay auditors were, every minute. What, still more prosperity!-mercy upon us, "This boy'll be the death of me"-oft as, already, Such smooth Budgeteers have genteelly undone us, For Ruin made easy there's no one like Freddy. TUESDAY. Much grave apprehension express'd by the Peers, Lest -calling to life the old Peachums and Lockitts The large stock of gold we're to have in three years, Should all find its way into highwaymen's pockets ! 1 Sir John Newport. 2 This charge of two pipes of port for the sacramental wine is a precious specimen of the sort of rates levied upon their Catholi: fellow-parishioners by the Irish Protestants. "The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine." "While I have a rag, poor Rob shall be roll'd in't, "With many a pound I'll paper him round, "Like a plump rouleau-without the gold in't." ALL IN THE FAMILY WAY. A NEW PASTORAL BALLAD. (SUNG IN THE CHARACTER OF BRITANNIA.) "The Public Debt is due from ourselves to ourselves, and resolves itself into a Family Account,"-Sir Robert Peel's Letter. Tune-My banks are all furnish'd with bees. My banks are all furnish'd with rags, Having little or naught to put in 'em. 3" Another objection to a metallic currency was, that it produced a greater number of highway robberies."—Debate in the Lords. 4 Mr. Abercromby's statement of the enormous tavern bills of the Commissioners of Bankrupts. My tradesmen are smashing by dozens, But this is all nothing, they say; For bankrupts, since Adam, are cousins,So, it's all in the family way. My Debt not a penny takes from me, My senators vote away millions, To put in Prosperity's budget; And though it were billions or trillions, The generous rogues wouldn't grudge it. "Tis all but a family hop, "Twas Pitt began dancing the hay; Hands round!-why the deuce should we stop? "Tis all in the family way. My laborers used to eat mutton, As any great man of the State does; And now the poor devils are put on Small rations of tea and potatoes. But cheer up, John, Sawney, and Paddy, The King is your father, they say; So, ev'n if you starve for your Daddy, "Tis all in the family way. My rich manufacturers tumble, My poor ones have nothing to chew; And, even if themselves do not grumble, Their stomachs undoubtedly do. But coolly to fast en famille, Is as good for the soul as to pray; And famine itself is genteel, When one starves in a family way. I have found out a secret for Freddy, As he, too, 's a sage in his way. Announces "the Devil to pay," Let him write on the bills, "Nota bena, ""Tis all in the family way." BALLAD FOR THE CAMBRIDGE ELECTION. "I authorized my Committee to take the step which they did, of proposing a fair comparison of strength, upon the ederstanding that whichever of the two should prove to be the weakest, should give way to the other."-Extract from Mr. W. J. B-kes's Letter to Mr. G-lb-n. B-KES is weak, and G-lb-n too, No one e'er the fact derived ;Which is "weakest" of the two, Cambridge can alone decide. Choose between them, Cambridge, pray, Which is weakest, Cambridge, say. G-lb-n of the Pope afraid is, B-kes, as much afraid as he; Never yet did two old ladies On this point so well agree. Choose between them, Cambridge, pray, Which is weakest, Cambridge, say. Each a different mode pursues, Each the same conclusion reaches; B-kes is foolish in Reviews, G-lb-n, foolish in his speeches. Choose between them, Cambridge, pray, Which is weakest, Cambridge, say. Each a different foe doth damn, When his own affairs have gone ill; B-kes he damneth Buckingham, G-lb-n damneth Dan O'Connell. Choose between them, Cambridge, pray, Which is weakest, Cambridge, say. Sixteen hundred and sixty, who only wants thaw- Well knowing how dear were those times to thy ing, To serve for our times quite as well as the To bring thus to light, not the Wisdom alone Of our Ancestors, such as 'tis found on our But, in perfect condition, full-wigg'd and full-grown, soul, When every good Christian tormented his brother, And caused, in thy realm, such a saving of coal, From all coming down, ready grill'd by each other; Rememb'ring, besides, how it pain'd thee to part Oh thaw Mr. Dodsworth, and send him safe home— | In which (though to own it too modest thou art) We could plainly perceive the fine touch of thy I thought, as we ne'er can those good umes revive, "Twould still keep a taste for Hell's music alive, That yell which, when chorus'd by 'aics and clerics. To think that Religion should make it her own. So, having sent down for th' original notes Thought I," if the Marseillois Hymn could command "Such audience, though yell'd by a Sans-culotte crew, "What wonders shall we do, who've men in our band, "That not only wear breeches, but petticoats too." Such then were my hopes; but, with sorrow, your I'm forced to confess-be the cause what it will, ness, Our Beelzebub chorus has gone off but ill. The truth is, no placeman now knows his right key, carious. 1 Con fuoco-a music-book direction The purger-the proser-the bard- Doctor Slop, in no merit outdone By his scribbling or physicking brother, Can dose us with stuff like the one, Ay, and doze us with stuff like the other. Doctor Eady good company keeps With "No Popery" scribes on the walls; Doctor S-th-y as gloriously sleeps With "No Popery" scribes, on the stalls. Doctor Slop, upon subjects divine, Such bedlamite slaver lets drop, That, if Eady should take the mad line, He'll be sure of a patient in Slop. Seven millions of Papists, no less, Doctor S-th-y attacks, like a Turk ;2 Doctor Eady, less bold, I confess, Attacks but his maid-of-all-work.3 Doctor S-th-y, for his grand attack, Has been had up to Bow-street, for his! And truly, the law does so blunder, That, though little blood has been spill'd, he May probably suffer as, under The Chalking Act, known to be guilty. So much for the merits sublime (With whose catalogue ne'er should I stop) Of the three greatest lights of our time, Doctor Eady, and S-th-y, and Slop! Should you ask me, to which of the three Doctor Eady must go to the wall. But as S-th-y with laurels is crown'd, 1 Alluding to the display of this doctor's name, in chalk, on all the walls round the metropolis. 2 This seraphic doctor, in the preface to his last work, (Vindicia Ecclesia Anglicana,) is pleased to anathematize not only all Catholics, but all advocates of Catholics:"They have for their immediate allies (he says) every faction that is banded against the State, every demagogue, every irreligious and seditious journalist, every open and every insidious enemy to Monarchy and to Christianity." 3 See the late accounts in the newspapers of the appear ance of this gentleman at one of the Police-offices, in consequence of an alleged assault on his "maid-of all-work.” 4 A crown granted as a reward among the Romans to persons who performed any extraordinary exploits upon walls, such as scaling them, battering them, &c.—No doubt, writing upon them, to the extent Dr. Eady does, would equally establish a claim to the honor. 5 So described by a Reverend Historian of the Church :"A Delta hat, like the horizontal section of a pyramid."-GRANT's History of the English Church. |