* No matter if the fellow be a knave, Provided that the razors shave:

It sartinly will be a monstrous prize.”

So, home the clown, with his good fortune, went,
Smiling in heart and soul content,

And quickly soap'd himself to ears and eyes.
Being well lather'd from a dish or tub,
Hodge now began with grinning pain to grub,
Just like a hedger cutting furze:

"Twas a vile razor!-then the rest he tried-
All were impostors-"Ah!" Hodge sigh'd,

“I wish my eighteen-pence within my purse!"

In vain to chase his beard, and bring the graces,

He cut, and dug, and winced, and stamp'd, and swore; Brought blood and danced, blasphemed and made wry And cursed each razor's body o'er and o'er!

His muzzle, form'd of opposition stuff,
Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff;
So kept it-laughing at the steel and suds:
Hodge, in a passion, stretch'd his angry jaws,
Vowing the direst vengeance, with clinch'd claws,
On the vile cheat that sold the goods.
“Razors! a damn'd confounded dog!
Not fit to scrape a hog!"

Hodge sought the fellow-found him, and began-
"Perhaps, Master Razor-rogue, to you 'tis fun,
That people flay themselves out of their lives:
You rascal! for an hour have I been grubbing,
Giving my scoundrel whiskers here a scrubbing,
With razors just like oyster-knives.
Sirrah! I tell you, you're a knave,
To cry up razors that can't shave."

"Friend," quoth the razor-man, “I am no knave:
As for the razors you have bought,

Upon my soul, I never thought

That they would shave."

[faces,

Not think they'd shave!" quoth Hodge, with wondering And voice not much unlike an Indian yell; [eyes, "What were they made for then, you dog!" he cries.

Made!" quoth the fellow, with a smile,—“ to sell.”

Pindar.

The Case Altered.

HODGE held a farm, and smiled content.
While one year paid another's rent;
But, if he ran the least behind,
Vexation stung his anxious mind;
For not an hour would landlord stay,
But seize the very quarter-day.
How cheap soe'er or scant the grain,
Though urged with truth, was urged in vain.
The same to him, if false or true;

For rent must come when rent was due.
Yet that same landlord's cows and steeds
Broke Hodge's fence, and cropp'd his meads.
In hunting, that same landlord's hounds-
See! how they spread his new-sown grounds!
Dog, horse, and man, alike o'erjoy'd,
While half the rising crop's destroy'd;
Yet tamely was the loss sustain'd.
'Tis said, the sufferer once complain'd:
The Squire laugh'd loudly while he spoke,
And paid the bumpkin-with a joke.

But luckless still poor Hodge's fate:
His worship's bull had forced a gate,
And gored his cow, the last and best;
By sickness he had lost the rest.

Hodge felt at heart resentment strong
The heart will feel that suffers long.
A thought that instant took his head,
And thus within himself he said:

66

If Hodge, for once, don't sting the Squire,

May people post him for a liar!"

He said across his shoulder throws
His fork, and to his landlord goes.

"I come, an't please you, to unfold
What, soon or late, you must be told.
My bull-a creature tame till now-
My bull has gored your worship's cow.
'Tis known what shifts I make to live:
Perhaps your honour may forgive."
"Forgive!" the Squire replied, and swore;
"Pray cant to me, forgive, no more;

The law my damage shall decide;
And know, that I'll be satisfied."
"Think, sir, I'm poor-poor as a rat."
“Think I'm a justice, think of that!"
Hodge bow'd again, and scratch'd his head;
And, recollecting, archly said,

Sir, I'm so struck when here before ye, I fear I've blunder'd in the story.

'Fore George! but I'll not blunder now:
Yours was the bull, sir; mine, the cow!”

His worship found his rage subside,
And with calm accent thus replied:
"I'll think upon your case to-night;
But I perceive 'tis alter'd quite!
Hodge shrugg'd, and made another bow:
"An please ye, where's the justice now?"

Anonymous.