ON CHARITY.

It is the duty of a man

To bless his greatest foe,

And shield the arm that late was raised
To work his direst woe.

Just so the scented sandal tree,
In all its pride and bloom,
Sheds on the axe that lays it low,
A sweet and rich perfume.

THE BULL REGULAR.

As I stood t'other morning, inhaling the air,
At the door of my shop near Black-Friars;
Where I turn and go on-turning toys and hard-

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
Upon a punishment, that's fit

For this offence :-what blocks!
Some talk of flogging, some of fine,
While some to pillory incline,

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!
Your miracles are not uncommon,
If all your prayers no further go
Than to produce a talking woman!
Prince Hohenlohe! indeed, indeed,
No miracle is this you're showing—
No, if you seek a conj'ror's meed,
You'll stop their tongues, not set them going.

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,

Was somewhat in his master's graces;
And as one day the fool look'd sad,
He took him to his kind embraces.

Quoth he, "good fellow, I've a thought
To leave thee free with store of money."
Blacky the notion quickly caught,

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,

Was awaked by the cry,

Sir, your lady is dead."

He heard, and returning to slumber, quoth he, "In the morn when I wake, oh!, how grieved I

shall be."

Ꮓ

A GUIDE TO EQUESTRIANS.

The law of the roads is a paradox quite,

For in orderly riding along,

If you go to the left you are sure to go right,
But if you go right you go wrong.

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, Whose teeth are sharp arrows, a razor her tongue ? The poison of asps, her vivid lips loads,

;

The rattle of snakes, with the spittle of toads
Her throat is an open sepulchre; her legs
Sit hatching of vipers and cockatrice eggs;
Her sting is a scorpion's like hyena, she'll cry;
With the ears of an adder, a basilisk's eye;

The mouth of a monkey, the hug of a bear,
The head of a parrot, the chat of a hare ;
The wing of a magpie, the snout of a hog!
The feet of a mole, and the tail of a dog;
Her claw is a tiger's, her forehead is brass,
With the hiss of a goose, and the bray of an ass.

NEWSPAPERS.

Messenger of grief

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.

T'other day in the Park cries Teddy to Pat,
As Achilles he chanced to espy,

Do tell me, I pray you, what fellow is that,
With his brazen face raised so high?

Achilles, my honey.-O'Kellies, cries Ted,
A relation of mine, then, I trow;
My mother belonged, with ould uncle Ned,
To th' O'Kellies of Ballinasloe.

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?