Says my lord-' I beg you will call it ee;
And as whilom you have listen'd ne,

I'll be off to the Paynims beyond the sea(Oh Thrope! Ann Thrope! Oh Miss Ann Thrope!) And leave you eftsoons to die.'

Ah! who could resist?--Not Miss Ann Thrope-
A Corsair hove in sight;-
My lord he bid him throw out a rope,
And hold it fast and tight.

So then they put it to the vote,

He tipp'd the Lozel a one pound note, And they jump'd together into the boat(Oh Thrope! Ann Thrope! Oh Miss Ann Thrope!) And bid her papa good night.

ANONYMOUS.

TWO HEADS BETTER THAN ONE.
A Tale.

As Yorkshire Humphry t'other day
O'er London Bridge was stumping,
He saw with wonder and delight
The water-works a pumping.

Numps gazing stood, and, wondering how
This grand machine was made,
To feast his eyes, he thrust his head
Betwixt the ballustrade.

A sharper, prowling near the spot,
Observes the gaping lout;

And soon with fish-hook finger turns
His pocket inside out.

Numps feels a twitch, and turns around

The thief, with artful leer,

Says, 'Sir, you'll presently be robb'd,
For pickpockets are near.'

Quoth Numps, 'I don't fear London thieves, I'se not a simple youth;

My guinea, measter, 's safe enow:

I've put'n in ma mouth!'

'You'll pardon me,' the rogue replies,

Then modestly retires;
Numps reassumes his gaping post,
And still the works admires.

The artful prowler takes his stand
With Humphry full in view,
And now an infant thief drew near,
And each the other knew:

When thus the elder thief began:
'Observe that gaping lout!
He has a guinea in his mouth,
And we must get it out.'

'Leave that to me,' young Filcher says,
'I have a scheme quite pat:
Only observe how neat I'll queer
That gaping country flat!'

By this time Numps had gazed his fill,
Was trudging through the street,
When the young pilferer, tripping by,
Falls prostrate at his feet.

'O Lord! O dear! my money's lost!'
The artful urchin moans;

While halfpence, falling from his hand,
Roll jingling o'er the stones.

The passengers now stoop to find
And give the boy his coin,

And Humphry, with this friendly band,
Most cordially does join.

'There is thy pence,' quoth Numps, ' my boy, Be zure thee haulds 'em faster.'

My pence!' quoth Filch, here is my pence;
But where's my guinea, master?

6 Help, help! good folks, for God's sake, help!'
Bawls out this hopeful youth;
He pick'd my guinea up just now,
And has it in his mouth!"

The elder thief was lurking near,
Now close to Humphry draws;
And, seizing by the gullet, plucks
The guinea from his jaws!

Then roars out, Masters, here's the coin,
I'll give the child his guinea;
But who'd have thought to see a thief
In this same country ninny?'

Humphry, astonish'd, thus begins,

'Good measters, hear me, pray;'

But Duck him! duck him! is the cry:
At length he sneaks away.

6

'And now,' quoth Numps, I will believe What often I've heard zaid,

That London thieves will steal the teeth

Out of a body's head!'

ANONYMOUS.

OLD WYSCHARD.

VOLUMES of historic lore

Read, and you'll find that heretofore
Flourish'd a brood of strapping dogs,
To whom this present race of men are frogs.
Ajax a rock in's arms could take

And hurl it at your pericrane,

Which half a dozen folks of modern make, With force combined, would strive to lift in vain.

By gallant Guy of Warwick slain
Was Colbrand, that gigantic Dane;
Nor could this desperate champion daunt
A dun cow bigger than an elephant:
But he to prove his courage sterling,
His whyniard in her blood imbrued;

He cut from her enormous side a sirloin,

And in his porridge-pot her brisket stew'd; "Then butcher'd a wild boar and ate him barbecued.

When Pantagruel ate salt pork

Six waiting-jacks were set at work

To shovel mustard into 's chops.

These you will allow were men of mould,
And made on purpose for an age of gold;

But we, their progeny, are mere milk sops: They drank whole tuns at a sup, to wet their throttles,

But we are a race of starvelings-I'll be shot else-
Begotten with the rinsings of the bottles.

'Twas so the sage Monboddo wrote:
And many a learned clod of note

You'll see come forward and advance
Positions every whit as wise :

And that they tell their friends no lies I'll show you by collateral circumstance.

There lived-though that is somewhat wide O'the purpose-I should say, there died A squire, and Wyschard was his name: Pictish and Saxon ancestry Illustrated his pedigree,

And many a noble imp of fame:

Yet these renowned ancestors,

As if they had been vulgar sons of whores, Were long, long since by all the world forgot Save by himself: he knew the very spot Where they had each been coffin'd up to rot; And in his will directions gave exact

Amongst those venerable dads to have his carcass pack'd.

Now deep the sexton burrows to explore

The sepulchre that these old worthies hid; Something at last that seem'd a huge barn-door, But was no other than a coffin lid,

Opposed his efforts; long it spread, and wide,
And near the upper end a crevice he espied.
Thence on his ear strange uncouth utterance broke,
As of some sullen slumberer half awoke,
Who, yawning, mutter'd inarticulate

And angry sounds; yet could not this abate
The courage of the clown: 'Speak out!' quoth he,
'Raw head and bloody bones ne'er yet affrighted