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cheerfulness-a cheerfulness which is imparted to the very fire, which blazes most comfortably as soon as it is wanted.

The breakfast is got ready all together. There is no waiting for our toast when our tea is ready, and no deficiency of water when our pot is exhausted. If a friend or two drop in, it is not thought too much to go for a supplemental roll, prepare some coffee, or boil an egg.

Not a saucy word in reply to humph, nor a hum, to be heard. crumbled between the teeth, and swallowed whole.

a command, nor a No half-oaths are none ready to be

Dinner served up to a minute, and done to a tittle. -Nothing is forgot-none of that lamentable want of memory complained of at other times; and the usual plea, "I did not think of it," is discontinued.

Cobwebs of three or four months standing are carefully removed, and our grates begin to look as mirrors. Scowering, cleaning, washing, scrubbing, and dusting-all performed by anticipation-Every thing done before it is ordered, instead of a month or six weeks after.

No delay in errands-graceful bows at the door, which is opened and shut, as if it could not express any passion!

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Watchmen twirl the window-pins with most anxious care, and can't bear the sight of a suspicious person; besides being perfectly awake every hour and half-hour.

In a word, such an universal politeness and civility prevails among the unprivileged orders, that it would appear they had studied the system of Chesterfield, and practised in the school of Vestris.

About a week after the holidays, indeed, it must be confessed there is ***** (hiatus valde deflendus).

MUM.

INTELLIGENCE

INTELLIGENCE FOR THE COUNTRY:

IN A LETTER FROM MR. GABRIEL GUBBINS (BEING THE CLOSE OF HIS CORRESPONDENCE) IN LONDON, HIS COUSIN, THE MAYOR OF *****, IN COUNTRY †.

ΤΟ

[From the Morning Post, Dec. 26.]

DEAR COUSIN,

OU have seen a King's ship on a jubilee day,

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As it danc'd o'er the waves, its proud banners display; One spark-and this vessel, so gallant, so fair, In smoke, death, and terror, is blown in the air! One spark, and to atoms its timbers are hurl'dA wreck, to dismay and astonish the world.

This ship so blown up, is that excellent youth,
Whom once you admir'd as the pillar of truth;

Who with face most undaunted each hazard would brave,
And promis'd (Heav'n bless him!) his country to savę.
While to show how the land with corruption was curst-
Gave proof by-corrupting his evidence first.
But time over tricks and deceptions prevails,
And the Law is a wonderful teller of tales;
For the Judges and Juries have finish'd his pranks,
So adieu to toasts, dinners, long speeches, and thanks.
And if in the Commons again he should venture,
That House, so impos'd on, triumphant should enter-
What novel expression of praise can they hit on?
Will they call him the juggler, or-patriot of Britain;
The quack of all quacks, for removing our ills,
Who took our gold boxes, and gave us-dirt pills?
Yet still may his friends in the mobs of St. Giles
Their leader salute in appropriate styles,

And while they the Colonel's disasters discuss,
Exclaim-"y, you sees he's the gemman for us,
Case vy-he speaks plain as ve Englishmen must,
And gives it them tightly, and kicks up a dust."
Besides, his new mode of discharging a debt,
Arithmetic never discover'd as yet:

+ See pp. 133, 135, 144, 336.

The

The word is conspiracy: that is the way
To liquidate sums which you never can pay;
For when you 're a little afraid of the gaoler,
Begin by indicting your draper or tailor;

And why 'gainst this mode do they make such a pather ♪ 'Tis Best with one bill to get rid of another.

But he's gone-the good Colonel! (though not to the skies,)

He's gone to that bourne whence he never will rise.
His gibes and his jokings, like Yorick's of yore,

And his good-humour'd tricks, will be heard of no more.
While o'er his low grave-turf, unmark'd by a stone,
Sits the Goddess of Humbug, and calls it her own.
But, Cousin, one word, ere I lay down my pen,
One word-on the commoner feelings of men.
We have seen, till we sicken, these patriot elves
Boast of saving the public when ruin'd themselves;
To direct for the country, most mightily prone,
When nothing is left to direct of their own.
'Tis the cant of the times; but one serious thing,
Most foul has been slander'd the son of our King;
That King-who, when prostrate all thrones upon earth,
As a sea-mark has stood and supported his birth!
Can the Commons of England, so vilely deceiv'd,
Fail to see in their own-the Duke's honour retriev'd;
Due right has been done by the laws of the land,-
'Tis theirs to go further-restore his command.

P. S. The paper came in as this note I was closing,
And the Colonel, I find, has new plans for imposing;
For having been pluck'd like a goose by his bribes,
He declares" he will thank any friend who subscribes."
So now would you cut a republican dash,

Here's an op'ning at once to get rid of your cash;
But give us your name, "One- may make many,'
And we 're at the whole board-from a pound to a penny.

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A PUN,

ON A DEACON'S WRITING EPIGRAMS.

[From the Morning Chronicle, Dec. 26.]

"A DEACON write epigrams?"--why should he not

A great name in the church may thereby be got ;.

With innocent wit let his verses be fraught,

And a deacon shall then an arch deacon be thought,

THE NEW-INVENTED MODE OF PROMOTION *. [From the Times, Dec. 26.]

WHILST there's life there is hope, some grave scholars

maintain,

But we now must the proverb amend ;

For beyond the dark confines of Death's gloomy reign
The bright beams of hope now extend.

For 't is true, I assure ye, though strange it may seem,
Since talents on earth are so rare,

Our wise ones at length have discover'd a scheme
To make use of the phantoms of air.

To supply want of brains in departments of state,
They've recourse to the bands of the slain;
And retort upon Death for his ravage of late,
By enlisting his subjects again.

By Dame Goose's assistance, these conjuring knaves.
To dead sailors fresh honours proclaim;
They can raise up old admirals out of their graves,
To endue them with posthumous fame.

Thus to title dead merit, with infinite pains,
Our wise ones have found out the way;
And one trifling obstacle only remains,
'Tis-how to transmit them their pay..

Oh! that they had follow'd this excellent plan,
In th' attack on the fatal Dutch shore;
And instead of appointing a certain brisk man,
They had sent out the ghost of poor

See p. 315.
6.

Moore !

Would

Would to God they had sent out the heroes of old,
Who immortaliz'd Agincourt's field:

They can stand the effects of damps, agues, and cold;
They are troops that can never be kill'd.

But, alas! 't was decreed that the brave British host
At the shrine of mis-rule should be slain;

And their bones upon Walcheren's pestilent coast,
As an altar to folly, remain.

Gray's Inn, Dec. 1809.

J. H. E.

THE EXPEDITION TO WALCHEREN:

IN A DIALOGUE BETWEEN LORD CM AND A

FRIEND.

[From the same, Dec. 29.]

F.-WHEN sent fresh wreaths on Flushing's shores to

reap,

What didst thou do, illustrious C--m?-C. Sleep!

F. To men fatigu'd with war, repose is sweet;
But, when awake, didst thou do nothing?-C. Eat.

ON THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA.

WH

[From the same.]

WHAT chief with Wellington can vie,
Who flies to fight, and fights to fly?

IMPROMPTU,

• MRS. MOUNTAIN'S FIRST APPEARANCE AFTER HER RETURN FROM DUBLIN.

[From the British Press, Dec. 27.]

SWEET is the perfume of the Mountain rose,

And pure the stream that from the Mountain flows;
The sun's first beams with gold the Mountain spread,
And its last rays are on the Mountain shed;
Vainly the tempests shake the Mountain's brow,
From storms the Mountain guards the dale below;
Nature has this pre-eminence to Mountains given,
Of all her works, the Mountain's nearest heaven.

M

ΟΝ

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