O a weary day was that

For Jacob to go through;
The debt was two seventeen
(Which he no mor owed than you),
And then there was the plaintives costs,
Eleven pound six and two.

And then there was his own,
Which the lawyers they did fix
At the wery moderit figgar

Of ten pound one and six.
Now Evins bless the Pallis Court,
And all its bold ver-dicks!

I cannot settingly tell

If Jacob swaw and cust,

At aving for to pay this sumb;
But I should think he must,

To saddle hup a three-pound debt,
With two-and-twenty pound.

Good sport it is to you

To grind the honest pare,
To pay their just or unjust debts
With cight hundred per cent for
Lor;

Make haste and get your costes in,

They will not last much mor!

Come down from that tribewn,

Thou shameless and Unjust;
Thou Swindle, picking pockets in
The name of Truth august:
Come down, thou hoary Blasphemy,
For die thou shalt and must.

And av drawn a check for £ 24 4s. 8d. And go it, Jacob Homnium,

With most igstreme disgust

O Pallis Court, you move

My pitty most profound.

A most emusing sport

You thought it, I'll be bound,

And ply your iron pen,

And rise up, Sir John Jervis,

And shut me up that den;
That sty for fattening lawyers in,
On the bones of honest men.
PLEACEMAN X.

THE SPECULATORS.

THE night was stormy and dark, The town was shut up in sleep: Only those were abroad who were out on a lark, Or those who 'd no beds to keep.

I pass'd through the lonely street, The wind did sing and blow; I could hear the policeman's feet Clapping to and fro.

There stood a potato-man In the midst of all the wet; He stood with his 'tato-can In the lonely Haymarket.

Two gents of dismal mien, And dank and greasy rags, Came out of a shop for gin, Swaggering over the flags:

Swaggering over the stones, These shabby bucks did walk; And I went and followed those seedy ones, And listened to their talk.

Was I sober or awake? Could I believe my ears? Those dismal beggars spake Of nothing but railroad shares.

I wondered more and more: many shares have you wrote for,

Says one- "Good friend of mine, How
In the Diddlesex Junction line?"

"I wrote for twenty," says Jim, "But they would n't give me one "; His comrade straight rebuked him

For the folly he had done:

"O Jim, you are unawares Of the ways of this bad town; I always write for five hundred shares, And then they put me down."

"And yet you got no shares," Says Jim, "for all your boast." would have wrote," says Jack," but where Was the penny to pay the post?

"I

"I lost, for I could n't pay That first instalment up; But here's 'taters smoking hot - I say, Let's stop, my boy, and sup.'

And at this simple feast The while they did regale, I drew each ragged capitalist Down on my left thumb-nail.

Their talk did me perplex, All night I tumbled and tost, And thought of railroad specs, And how money was won and lost.

"Bless railroads everywhere," I said, "and the world's advance; Bless every railroad share, In Italy, Ireland, France; For never a beggar need now despair, And every rogue has a chance."

A WOFUL NEW BALLAD

OF THE

PROTESTANT CONSPIRACY TO TAKE THE POPE'S LIFE.

(BY A GENTLEMAN WHO HAS BEEN ON THE spot.)

COME all ye Christian people, unto my tale give ear,

"T is about a base consperracy, as quickly shall appear;

'T will make your hair to bristle up, and your eyes to start and glow, When of this dread consperracy you honest folks shall know.

The news of this consperracy and villianous attempt,

I read it in a newspaper, from Italy it was sent:

It was sent from lovely Italy, where the olives they do grow,
And our Holy Father lives, yes, yes, while his name it is No No.

And 't is there our English noblemen goes that is Puseyites no longer,
Because they finds the ancient faith both better is and stronger.
And 't is there I knelt beside my lord when he kiss'd the POPE his toe,
And hung his neck with chains at Saint Peter's Vinculo.

And 't is there the splendid churches is, and the fountains playing grand,
And the palace of PRINCE TORLONIA, likewise the Vatican;
And there's the stairs where the bagpipe-men and the piffararys blow.
And it's there I drove my lady and lord in the Park of Pincio.

And 't is there our splendid churches is in all their pride and glory.
Saint Peter's famous Basilisk and Saint Mary's Maggiory;
And them benighted Prodestants, on Sunday they must go
Outside the town to the preaching-shop by the gate of Popolo.

Now in this town of famous Room, as I dessay you have heard,
There is scarcely any gentleman as has n't got a beard.
And ever since the world began it was ordained so,

That there should always barbers be wheresumever beards do grow.

And as it always has been so since the world it did begin,
The POPE, our Holy Potentate, has a beard upon his chin;
And every morning regular when cocks begin to crow,
There comes a certing party to wait on POPE PIO.

There comes a certing gintleman with razier, soap, and lather,
A shaving most respectfully the POPE, our Holy Father.
And now the dread consperracy I'll quickly to you show,
Which them sanguinary Prodestants did form against Noxo.

Them sanguinary Prodestants, which I abore and hate,
Assembled in the preaching-shop by the Flaminian gate;
And they took counsel with their selves to deal a deadly blow
Against our gentle Father, the Holy POPE PIO.

Exhibiting a wickedness which I never heerd or read of;

What do you think them Prodestants wished? to cut the good Pope's head

off!

And to the kind POPE'S Air-dresser the Prodestant Clark did go,

And proposed him to decapitate the innocent Pro.

"What hever can be easier," said this Clerk- this Man of Sin,
"When you are called to hoperate on His Holiness's chin,
Than just to give the razier a little slip-just so?

And there's an end, dear barber, of innocent Pro!"

This wicked conversation it chanced was overerd

By an Italian lady; she heard it every word:

Which by birth she was a Marchioness, in service forced to go
With the parson of the preaching-shop at the gate of Popolo.

When the lady heard the news, as duty did obleege,

As fast as her legs could carry her she ran to the Poleege.

"O Polegia," says she (for they pronounts it so),

66

They 're going for to massyker our Holy POPE PIO.

"The ebomminable Englishmen, the Parsing and his Clark,
His Holiness's Air-dresser devised it in the dark!
And I would recommend you in prison for to throw
These villians would esassinate the Holy POPE PIO!

"And for saving of His Holiness and his trebble crownd
I humbly hope your Worships will give me a few pound;
Because I was a Marchioness many years ago,
Before I came to service at the gate of Popolo."

That sackreligious Air-dresser, the Parson and his man,
Would n't, though ask'd continyally, own their wicked plan-
And so the kind Authoraties let those villians go
That was plotting of the murder of the good Pro NoNo.

Now is n't this safishnt proof, ye gentlemen at home,

How wicked is them Prodestants, and how good our Pope at Rome; So let us drink confusion to LORD JOHN and LORD MINTO,

And a health unto His Eminence, and good PIO NONO.

THE LAMENTABLE BALLAD OF THE FOUNDLING OF SHOREDITCH.

COME all ye Christian people, and listen to my tail,

It is all about a doctor was travelling by the rail,

By the Heastern Counties' Railway (vich the shares I don't desire), From Ixworth town in Suffolk, vich his name did not transpire.

A travelling from Bury this Doctor was employed

With a gentleman, a friend of his, vich his name was Captain Loyd, And on reaching Marks Tey Station, that is next beyond Colchestr, a lady entered in to them most elegantly dressed.

She entered into the Carriage all with a tottering step,
And a pooty little Bayby upon her bussum slep;

The gentlemen received her with kindness and siwillaty,
Pitying this lady for her illness and debillaty.

She had a fast-class ticket, this lovely lady said,
Because it was so lonesome she took a secknd instead.
Better to travel by secknd class, than sit alone in the fust,
And the pooty little Baby upon her breast she nust.

A seein of her cryin, and shiverin and pail,
To her spoke this surging, the Ero of my tail;

Saysee you look unwell, ma'am, I'll elp you if I can,
And you may tell your case to me, for I'm a meddicle man.

"Thank you, sir," the lady said, "I only look so pale,
Because I ain't accustom'd to travelling on the Rale;
I shall be better presnly, when I 've ad some rest":
And that pooty little Baby she squeeged it to her breast.

So in conwersation the journey they beguiled,

Capting Loyd and the meddicle man, and the lady and the child, Till the warious stations along the line was passed,

For even the Heastern Counties' trains must come in at last.

When at Shoreditch tumminus at lenth stopped the train,
This kind meddicle gentleman proposed his aid again.
"Thank you, sir," the lady said, "for your kyindness dear;
My carridge and my osses is probibbly come here.

66

"Will you old this baby, please, vilst I step and see?"
The Doctor was a famly man: That I will," says he.
Then the little child she kist, kist it very gently,
Vich was sucking his little fist, sleeping innocently.