ple by threats of edged tools, and dark inuendoes, we should first know our men, for the same sort of paragraph that might suit Sir J. Farrington, will not be found to terrify Mr. Cox, and a vapour about an edged tool, was very unskilfully applied to the Doctor-and to be candid with you Con., I fear between them you'll be put into a strange quandary. In order to avert the misfortunes likely to be the result of your imprudence, I had purposed to write two letters to Mr. Cox and the Doctor in your behalf, as I have a fellow feeling for all squibbers; but when I heard that they had vowed vengeance against you, I thought my interference would be unavailing: but if they do not, fret you to death before Michaelmas-day next, I will become your mediator with them in the October Maga zine. I was a few nights back at a carman's-inn in Thomas-street, where I met a man who gave me a long history about you, not one word of which I believe. He said that you were caught on the mountains of Cunnamara, and brought to one MARTIN O'BlusTEK, who tamed you, and made you fit for, society, that you served him in the different stations of foot-boy, butier, valet-dechambre, and major domo; that like my Lord Duke, in High Life below Stairs, you learned to ape the manners of the great, that you became his flying stationer and amanuensis, that you turned squibber, that having read Ovid's Metamorphoses, you became greatly enamoured with the charac ter of PROTEUS, and strove to imitate him, that you were to be found at one time the accuser of political versatility, again a fee'd weathercock yourself: at another time in the shape of a paragragh, as long as a ship's cable, at another time in the pages of a preface, composed of plagiarisms from HUME and GIBBON. At another time with the eyes of an Argus, in the columns of the CURE FOR THE GOUT. A Mr. PILLY, of Upton, in Essex, a gentleman in years, and who used to be laid up annually, for some months, with a violeat fit of the Gout, was induced to try the virtue of the Load-stone, as a remedy against that excrutiating disease. He procured one, which he had formed into a convenient shape, and suspended it from a black ribbon round his neck, next his skin, sewed in a little flannel-case. It was about two inches long, an inch and a half broad, and two-tenths of an inch thick. Its magnetic power was considerable. He wore it con stantly, night and day for many years, with out any return of his pains, except now and then a slight twitch to remind him of the terrible paroxysms to which he was once subject. He however, to try whether he could with impunity lay aside the use of it, discontinued to wear it for some months, when one night he awoke in tor ment he immediately called for his safe guard, threw it about his neck, and escaped with a slight attack. He continued to wear it ever after, and enjoyed perfect freedom from all the pain inflicted by his old enemy. This magnetic Amulet ruch resembled a piece of slate, such as school-boys learn to cypher on. Mon. Mag. Feb. 1810. This simple and accessible remedy has been tried by several persons in Dublin and other parts of Ireland with consider able effect. The load-stone is prepared in Mr. Thos. Saunders, Mathematical Instru a proper manner by a person in Dublin.ment-maker, Church-lane, near College green. EPIGRAM. An traż teidimgo tig an óil, Hibernian Journal threatening desolation Gebim póg air mo éhol afteac, to poor Watty Cox; at another time encouraging the publication of slander, in order thereby to assist in promoting the sale of a News-paper; at another time-here, Con. he was out of breath, and I was out buailtear Preab an mo toin of patience-I took him seriously to task Aug. 91, 1810. JACK SQUIB. amaċ. TRANSLATION. When to the ale-house I repair, ORIGINAL POETRY. FOR THE IRISH MAGAZINE. MR. COX, The following Verses were composed on the occasion of the Emperor of France assisting the people of Antwerp to refit the Cathedral, which had been despoiled during the Revolution. I will be much obliged by some of your Correspondents giving an English translation of it in perse. Templum Augustum, ingens venerabile Post tot dissidia et codes, tot bella, dosœclis, Vastarat demens, et scelerata manus, Hoc nunc Napoleon Cæsar, populusque refecit Pulchrius et formā, quam fuit aute, nitet. lores, Nunc fruitur tandem Gallia Parta-Bonā. THE COTTAGE OF THE HILL By P. O'KELLY, Esq. addressed to Mrs. IRWIN, of Cottage, near Loughrea. Enraptured the Parnassian choir, With melody attune the lyre, Each breast with joy to fill; The leading graces all unite, This Paradise of every sweet, IRWIN-this cot's enlightened host, A sportsman true, as man of sense, To celebrate this happy pair, THE TOUCHSTONE OF TRUTH. Our starving IRISHMEN and BANKRUPTS shew, The wicked plans of PERCEVAL and Co X. MR. MR. COX, The following Ode of Anacreon to the Dove, has been translated by so many able hands, that an attempt to render it may appear presumptuous. Dr. Johnson said that he began the translation at fifteen, and did not finish it to his mind till he was seventy years of age. Mrs. Pilkington has done it, I have seen a good translation of it by Counsellor Comerford, a man whose modesty has deprived the world of some excellent compositions, whose merits he could not see as being his own, Moore's translation has those embellishments that please generally, but they are his own, not Anacreon's, viz. The Nymph of Azure Eye; Essence of the balmiest Flowers; Faithful Minion; Dulcet Numbers, &c. I have endeavoured to preserve the sense, which, I believe, will be doing as much justice to the original, as if I dressed it in the tawdry appoint, ments of Mr. Moore, Beauteous bird, my lovely dove, Over mountain, hill or grove, JACK IN OFFICE! or, my Foster Father's Old Night-Cap New, TRIMMED. Tune-Let the Toast pass. 1. Some thirty years since, in the days of our dads When yellow-mug Jack was a tight chap, In his Molesworth-street Coal-hole, he skulk'd from the lads, Whilst Paddy roar'd "Pull down his For he was the Hack, With tares and burthens to break Erin's back! 2. And soon he may find there's the devil to If to Paris Jack went to show Tally the Job, Bill Pitt smel't his worth, and soon took Tho' faith I much fear his Financial Nob him in pay, And Bill at a bribe was a bright chap, "Here Jackey" says Bill," take your seythe, cut away "And i'll stuff with hard guineas your night cap: "For I know you're a hack "That will never be slack "With taxes and burthens to break Erin's back.". Would soon make a drop in his night-cap! What a fate for the hack That never was slack With taxes and burthens to break Erin's back! 5. Then Jack take advice-you've to gold been a slave, To RUIN you're driving us right slap, Repent, or you'll die, as you've liv'd-a dd knave, And to h** caper off in your night-cap, THE SÚNG AT THE BUNKER-HILL CELEBRATION OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE, JULY 4, 1810, Tune Kind Heaven returns the glorious morn High in his proclamation soar'd, Brave STARK reveng'd our countrys cause, Bound fast this British Lion's paws. Those patriot Sires who met their doom Address you from the mould'ring tomb, "Columbians! firm your rights maintain, "Or else we fought and died in vain. "Swear by that Power who rules the fates, May Peace, the darling boon of Heaven same, Speaks and dissolves all nature's frame. A NEW A NEW SONG CALLED WHO SHOULD IT BE BUT THE MAJOR. In the year ninety-eight to sweet Dublin I Beside all your friends the triangle i'll And they jostled me so, I could scarce keep my feet; Of one I ask'd what so engag'd her? Says she I am come to see a great villain strung, Who many poor boys in his bloody time hung, When down from the shop-board I saw a lad flung, And who should it be but the Major? + One who kept an alphabetical list of Informers in the year Ninety-eight. The |