Thus snatching his hat, he brush'd off like the wind, And the porter and eatables follow'd behind.

Left alone to reflect, having emptied my shelf, And “nobody with me at sea but myself;"* Tho' I could not help thinking my gentleman hasty, Yet Johnson, and Burke, and a good venison pasty, Were ings that I never dislik'd in my life, Tho' clogg'd with a coxcomb, and Kitty his wife : So next day, in due splendour to make my approach, I drove to his door in my own hackney-coach.

When come to the place where we all were to dine, (A chair-lumber'd closet just twelve feet by nine) My friend bade me welcome, but struck me quite dumb With tidings that Johnson and Burke would not come; • For I knew it,” he cry'd, “both eternally fail, “ The one with his speeches, and t’other with Thrale; “ But no matter, I'll warrant we'll make up the party “ With two full as clever, and ten times as hearty: “ The one is a Scotchman, the other a Jew“ They both of them merry, and authors like you; “ The one writes the Snarler, the other the Scourge; “ Some think he writes Cinna-he owns to Panurge.” While thus he describ'd them by trade and by name, They enter’d, and dioner was serv’d as they came.

At the top a frry'd liver and bacon were seen, At the bottoin was tripe, in a swinging tureen; At the sides there was spinnage and pudding made hot; In the middle a place where the pasty-was not. Now, my Lord, as for tripe, it's my utter aversion, And your bacon I hate like a Turk or a Persian;

* See the letters that passed between his Royal Highness Henry Duke of Cumberland and Lady Grosvenor--1769.

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So there I sat stuck, like a horse in a pound, While the bacon and liver went merrily round: But what vex'd me most, was that d—'d Scottish rogue, With his long-winded speeches,his smiles,and his brogue, And,“madam,”quoth he,“may this bit be my poison, " A prettier dinner I never set eyes on; “ Pray, a slice of your liver, though may I be curst, “ But I've eat of your tripe, till I'm ready to burst." “ The tripe!" quoth the Jew, with his chocolate cheek, “ I could dine on this tripe seven days in a week: “ I like these here dinners so pretty and small; “ But yourfriend there the doctor eats nothing at all.” “O-ho!” quoth my friend, "he'll come on in a trice, “ He's keeping a corner for something that's nice: “ There's a pasty""A pasty!” repeated the Jew; “ I don't care if I keep a corner for't too." “ What the de’il, mon, a pasty!" re-echo'd the Scot; “ Though splitting, I'll still keep a corner for that.” 6 We'll all keep a corner,” the lady cry'd out; “ We'll all keep a corner," was echo'd about. While thus we resolv'd, and the pasty delay'd, With looks that quite petrify'd, enter'd the maid! A visage fo fad, and so pale with affright, Wak'd Priam in drawing his curtains by night! But we quickly found out-forwhocould mistake herThat she came with some terrible news from the baker; And so it fell out, for that negligent sloven Had shut out the party on shutting his oven! Sad Philomel thus—but let fimilies drop And, now that I think on't, the itory may stop. To be plain, my good lord, it's but labour miplac d, To send such good serles to one of your taite;

You've got an odd something—a kind of discerning-
A relish--a taste-ficken'd over by learning;
At least it's your temper, as very well known,
That

you

think very slightly of all that's your own: So, perhaps, in your habits of thinking amiss, You

may make a mistake, and think slightly of this.

A DESCRIPTION

OF AN AUTHOR'S BED-CHAMBER.

Where the Red-Lion staring o'er the way,
Invites each passing stranger that can pay-
Where Calvert’s butt, and Parsons' black champaign,
Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury-lane;
There, in a lonely room, from bailiffs fnug,
The Muse found Scroggen stretch'd beneath a rug!
A window patch’d with paper, lent a ray,
That dimly shew'd the state in which he lay:
The sanded floor that grits beneath the tread;
The humid wall with paltry pictures spread;
The Royal Game of Goose was there in view;
And the Twelve Rules the royal martyr drew;
The Seasons, fram’d with listing, found a place,
And brave Prince William Mew'd his lamp-blackface:
The morn was cold, he views with keen desire
The rusty grate unconscious of a fire;
With beer and milk-arrears the frieze was scor’d,
And five crack'd tea-cups dress’d the chimney-board;
A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,
A cap by night-a stocking all the day!

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THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION.

A TALE.

Could any

Secluded from domestic strife,
Jack Book-worm led a college life;
A fellowship at twenty-five
Made hin the happiest man alive-
He drank his glass, and crack'd his joke,
And freshmen wonder'd as he spoke.
Such pleasures, unalloy'd with care,

accident impair?
Could Cupid's shaft at length transfix
Our swain, arriv'd at thirty-six!
Oh! had the archer ne'er come down
To ravage in a country town!
Or Flavia been content to stop
At triumphs in a Fleet-street shop!
Oh! had her eyes forgot to blaze,
Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze!
Oh!-But let exclamation cease-
Her presence banish'd all his peace:
So, with decorum all things carry’d,
Mifs frown'd,and blush'd,and then was marry'd.

Need we expose to vulgar fight
The raptures of the bridal night?
Need we intrude on hallow'd ground,
Or draw the curtains, clos'd around?
Let it suffice, that each had charms
He clafp'd a goddess in his arms,

And, tho' she felt his visage rough,
Yet in a man 'twas well enough.

The honey-moon like lightning flew-
The second brought its transports too
A third, a fourth, were not amiss-
The fifth was friendship mix'd with bliss ;
But, when a twelvemonth pass’d away,
Jack found his goddess made of clay-
Found half the charms that deck'd her face
Arole from powder, fhreds, or lace;
But still the worst remain'd behind-
That very face had robb'd her mind!

Skill'd in no other art was the But dressing, patching, repartee; And, just as humour rose or fell, By turns a Nattern or a belle: 'Tis true the dress’d with modern graceHalf naked at a ball or race; But when at home, at board or bed, Five greasy night-caps, wrapt her head. Could so much beauty condescend To be a dull domestic friend? Could any curtain-lectures bring To decency so fine a thing? In short, by night, 'twas fits or frettingBy day, 'twas gadding or coquetting.

Fond to be seen, she kept a bevy Of powder'd coxcombs at her levee; The 'squire and captain took their stations, And twenty other near relations: Jack suck'd his pipe, and often broke A sigh in suffocating smoke;

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