ON CHARITY. It is the duty of a man To bless his greatest foe, And shield the arm that late was raised Just so the scented sandal tree, THE BULL REGULAR. As I stood t'other morning, inhaling the air, ware Into cash, when I meet with soft buyers : In the window, well strewed, among other things, there Were laying, for customers' waiting, Some traps, the unlucky black beetles t'ensnare; And on them, "directions for baiting." An Irishman passing, he made a full stop, Crying, "that's a fine thing, O, it fait is; But honey," approaching the door of my shop, "Don't you come from the land o' potatoes ?" "No, I don't."-" Then be aisy; do you never rap Out about Irish bulls, you don't need it; For look at the printing on this clever trap; Do you think the poor varmin won't read it?" LEX TALIONIS *. 'Tis said, the lawyers cannot hit For this offence:-what blocks ! But none have named the stocks. FORTUNATE STARS. "My stars!" cried a courtier, with gold and lace twirl'd, "What homage we nobles command in the world!" "True, my Lord," said a wag, "tho' the world has its jars, Some people owe much to their fortunate stars!" TO PRINCE HOHENLOHE, Prince Hohenlohe, Prince Hohenlohe! THE SICK PLANTER AND HIS SLAVE, A planter, near Jamaica town, Was sick beyond the art of healing; * Or, an appropriate punishment discovered for a certain notorious stock jobbing hoax, He was a man of high renown, And rich in every thing-but feeling. Vasa, his slave, a faithful lad, He took him to his kind embraces. Quoth he, "good fellow, I've a thought And sobb'd, "Sweet massa-tark'e honey." "And when you die that you may rest Near him whose bounty thus conferr'd is, I'll have it in my will express'd That in my vault your corpse interr'd is." "Oh, my good massa-never care," The slave returned-" me no disgrace you; Me satisfy de gold to share, Your own relations me give place to." "How!" said the planter, in a pet: Trembling the boy replied, "Dear massa, Me fear old Debbil may forget, And stead of you-may take poor Vasa." CONJUGAL PATIENCE. Sir Simon, as snoring he lay in his bed, " In the morn when I wake, oh! how grieved I shall be." Z A GUIDE TO EQUESTRIANS. The law of the roads is a paradox quite, If you go to the left you are sure to go right, THE THOROUGHFARE. "My head, Tom, 's confused with your nonsense and bother, It goes in at one ear, and out at the other." "Of that, my friend Dick, I was ever aware, For nonsense, your head is a pure thoroughfare." THE RIGHT MODE OF SUSPENSION. On a lady wearing the miniature of an unworthy person suspended round her neck. "What hang from the neck of a lady!" cries Bill, "Were ever such folly and impudence known? As to hanging indeed he may hang where he will, But as to the neck let it be by his own." THE PICTURE OF SLANDER. What mortal but slander, that serpent hath stung, The mouth of a monkey, the hug of a bear, Perhaps to thousands, and to joy of some; What is it but a map of life, Its fluctuations and its vast concerns ? ACHILLES, AN IRISHMAN. Tother day in the Park cries Teddy to Pat, Achilles, my honey. - O'Kellies, cries Ted, THE LUCKY CALL. A country curate, visiting his flock, At old Rebecca's cottage gave a knock, "Good morrow, Dame-I mean not any libel, But in your dwelling have you got a Bible ?" " A Bible, sir," exclaimed she in a rage, "D'ye think I've turn'd a Pagan in my age? |