Written on a Church 'door on a day of Thanksgiving, during the American War.

Vain-glorious man, are these thy pranks,

First murder men,

Then give God thanks ?

Vile hypocrite proceed no further,
For God receives

No thanks for murder.

ON GIVING THE WALL TO A PROUD MAN.

A haughty Courtier meeting in the streets
A poor man, him thus insolently greets;
"Base men to take the wall I ne'er permit :"
The poor man, said, "I do!" and gave him it.

THE FORLORN MAIDEN.

To take poor Nell for better or worse,

None could be found, tho' she had got, to tempt ye, Youth, wit, and honesty, aye and e'en a purse :— You stand amaz'd-but, reader it was empty!

ON A MAN NAM'D TREBLE BEING APPREHENDED FOR PICKING POCKETS.

Treble, with London pickpockets, they say,
Has long time held the tenor of his way;
If this be true, and can be proved the case,
This Treble's tenor has been thorough base.

NO MARRIAGES IN HEAVEN.

Said Lydia to a reverend dean,
"What reason can be given,
Since marriage is a holy thing,
That there are none in heaven?"
"There are no women," he replied;
She quickly turned the jest ;
"Women there are but I'm afraid,
They cannot find a priest."

IMPERIUM IN IMPERIO.

When Beelzebub first to mischief began,
He the woman attacked, and she gulled the poor

man:

This Moses asserts, and from hence would infer,
That woman rules man, and the devil rules her.

WOMAN'S INVULNERABLE PART.

'Tis strange what havoc Time has made,
Sweet Woman's charms among!

Of rose, of lily, robbed the maid,
The ivory rows blacked and decayed,
In short the very devil played,

With every beauty sung.

But one invulnerable part,

Proof against Time's most deadly dart,
Woman has 'tis not her heart,

Nor aught around it hung.
But 'tis a part, defying scathe,
And nature's every foe save Death-

While in her frame stays vital breath,
Time cannot maim-HER TONGUE !

THE FOUR AGES OF WOMAN.

From the French.

Woman is

In Infancy a tender flower,
Cultivate her;

A floating barque in Girlhood's hour,
Softly freight her.

A fruitful Vine when grown a Lass,
Prune and please her;

Old, she's a heavy charge, álas !
Support and ease her.

THE FIRST TEMPTER.

Impromptu by a Lady, on a Gentleman accusing the females as the

origin of sin.

'Tis said that we caused man to grieve,

The jest is somewhat stale;

The Devil it was who tempted Eve,

And is not he a male?

66 RUM IS RIZ;-BUT SUGAR'S FELL."

This memorable exclamation which is appropriated with good effect by the facetions Mathews, originated in the Liverpool Mercury, where it stands thus:

STATE OF THE MARKETS.

Doleful o'ertook his friend the other day,
And with his dismal tales beguil'd the way;

Nothing was" stiff ning-rising-up" he said,
But all was "drooping-falling-flat down-dead."
At length, a most desponding theme he got on,
Lamenting bitterly the fate of Cotton;

"" Aye! aye!" says Cheerly, with complacent phiz, "Cottons is fell, for sure-but Rums is riz."

WHERE SHALL I DINE?

Jack boasts he never dines at home,
(With reason too no doubt);
In truth, he never dines at all,
Unless invited out!

ON A PEN AND QUILL MANUFACTURER.

You put above your door, and in your bills,
You're manufacturer of Pens and Quills ;
And, for the first you well may feel a pride,
Your Pens are better far than most I've tried ;
But for the Quills, your words are somewhat loose
Who manufactures Quills must be a Goose!

HAPPINESS.

By Dr. Young.

Thrice happy those who sleep in humble life,
Beneath the storm ambition blows.

"Tis meet

The great should have the fame of happiness,
The consolation of a little envy ;

"Tis all their pay for those superior cares,
Those pangs of heart their vassals never feel.

THE WHITE HAT.

4

On being asked the reason of wearing one.

You ask me the reason I wear a white hat:

'Tis for lightness I wear it, what think you of that?
So light is its weight that no head-ache I rue,
So light its expense that it wears me out two;
So light is its colour it never looks dusty,

So light though I treat it, it never " rides rusty;"
So light in its fashion, its shape, and its air,
So light in its sit, its fit, and its wear;

So light in its turning, its twisting and twining,
So light in its beaver, its binding, and lining;
So light to a figure so light to a letter,

And if light my excuse, you may light on a better.

THE IRISHMAN'S LOTTERY TICKET.

In our lottery of state, when the tickets were dear, Poor Pat from Kilkenny had purchas'd a share, Which was, as the wheel of dame Fortune came round,

Drawn, "principal money," a prize twenty pound; Pat ran to the office, and found, to his cost,

On counting his cash, he five shillings had lost. "Oh! bodder," said Pat, and it's well it's no worse,

Since the greater the luck, still greater the curse: If the prize twenty thousand by chance I had won, Fire and fury, poor Patrick had been quite undone!"