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A very decenii singer. The poor bird
In silent modesty the critic heard,
And winged her peaceful flight into the air,
O'er many and many a field and forest sair.
Many such critics you and I have seen :-
Heaven be our screen!


Fresh was the breath of morn—the busy breeze,
As poets tell us, whispered through the trees,

And swept the dew-clad blooms with wings so light:
Phoebus got up, and made a blazing tire,
That gilded every country-house and spire,

And smiling, put on his best looks so bright.

On this fair morn, a spider who had set,
To catch a breakfast, his old waving net,

With cautious art, upon a spangled thorn;
At length with gravely-squinting, longing eye,
Near him espied a pretty, plump, young fly,

Humming her little orisons to morn.

“ Good morrow, dear Miss Fly," quuth gallant Grim“ Good morrow, sir,” replied Miss Fly to him

“ Walk in, Miss, pray, and see what I'm about :" “ I'm much obliged t'ye, sir,” Miss Fly rejoined, “ My eyes are both so very good, I find,

That I can plainly see the whole without."

“ Fine weather, Miss"_" Yes, very fine,"

Quoth Miss—“ prodigious fine mdeed!" “ But why so coy?" quoth Grim, “that you decline To put within my bower your pretty head ?"

“'Tis simply this,”

Quoth cautious Miss, “I fear you'd like my pretty head so well, You'd keep it for yourself, sir,-- who can tell ?”

“ Then let me squeeze your lovely hand, my dear,

And prove that all your dread is foolish, vain”"I've a sore finger, sir, nay more, I sear

You really would not let it go again."

« Poh, poh, child, pray dismiss your idie dread: I would not huri a hair of that sweet head

Well, then, with one sweet kiss of friendship meet me " “ La, sir," quoth miss, with seeming ariless longue, “I lear our salutation would be long :

So loving, too, I fear that you would eat me."

So saying, with a smile she lost the rogie,
To weave more lines of death, and plan for prog.


A certain artist, I've forgot his name, Had got for making spectacles a fame, Or “ helps to read"-as, when they first were sold, Was writ upon his glaring sign in gold; And, for all uses to be had from glass, His were allowed by readers to surpass. There came a man into his shop one day“ Are you the spectacle contriver, pray ?“Yes, sir,” said he, “I can in that affair Contrive to please you, if you want a pair.” “Can you ? pray do then."—So, at first, he chuse To place a youngish pair upon his nose ; And book produced, to see how they would fit: Asked how he liked 'em ?Z“ Like 'em-not a bit.”— “Then sir, I fancy, if you please to try, These in my hand will belier suit your eye”— “ No, but they don'i”—“ Well, come, sir, if you please Here is another sort, we'll e'en try these ; Still somewhat more they maynily the letier; Now, sir ?”—“ Why now I'ın not a bit the better" “No! here, take these that magnisy still more ; How do they fit ?"_" Like all the rest before.” In short, they tried a whole assortment through, But all in vain, for none of 'em would do. The operator, much surprised to find So odd a case, thoughi, sure the man is blind : “ What sort of eyes can you have got ?" said he,

Why, very good ones, frienil, as you may see :" “ Yes, I perceive the clearness of the ballPray, let me ask you--can you read at all?"

“No, you great blockhead; if I could, what need
Of paying you for any– helps to read ?!”
And so he left the maker in a heat,
Resolved to post him for an arrant cheat.


I love my master, and my school full well,
But cannot bear to read, to write, or spell;
I strive at each, but, ah! I strive in vain-
But still more zealous strive to shun the cane.

When, if by chance, my hands do get a stain,
Up I am sent to have them washed with cane;
Or, if an apple munch-or sidewise chance to look,
Confound the cane, I catch it—such my fatal luck.

If slate-string lose,-or pencil chance to drop,
Up I am sent-the cane will never stop;
To stir, is treason, speaking, worse than death,
There's no escape from cane while I have breath.

Oh! direful cane! I wish the burning sun
Had parched the ground, and it had brought forth none;
Had we no weapon on our England's plain,
But we must cross the ocean for a cane ?

Oh! friends believe me, hear me speak my mind :
Before I know my fault, I'm seized-confined,
Dragged like a felon- plead alas! in vain,
And all I get for pity is the cruel cane.

Oh! what a sufferer, when shall I be freed ?-
Is there no other art to teach mankind to read ?
Oh! yes, there's Lancaster, friend of hapless youth,
Without a cane can guide mankind to truth.

I'll go to him, for he's a man of peace,

ind in his school the war of cane shall cease ; i went, and sound to finish my mishap, Instead of cane, a substitute called-strap.

Oh! wrotched me! how oft I've wished in vain,
Some friend in pity would destroy the cane;
But now I wish the cane and strap together,
Sunk in the ocean, and both lost for ever.


Two honest tradesmen meeting in the Strand, One took the other briskly by the hand; “ Hark ye,” said he, “'tis an odd story this, About the crows !"_“1 don't know what it is," Replied his friend.—“No! I'm surprised at that; Where I come from, it is the common chat: But you shall hear: an odd affair indeed! And that it happened, they are all agreed : Not to detain you from a thing so strange, A gentleman, that lives not far from 'Change, This week, in short, as all the alley knows, Taking a puke, has thrown up three black crows." “Impossible !"_“Nay, but it's really true, I had it from good hands, and so may you.” “ From whose, I pray ?” So having named the man Straight to inquire his curious comrade ran. “ Sir, did you tell”-relating the affair “ Yes, sir, I did; and if it's worth your care Ask Mr. Such-a-one, he told it me; But, by the by, 'twas two black crows, not three.” Resolved to trace so wondrous an event, Whip to the third, the virtuoso went. “ Sir,”—and so forth-" Why, yes; the thing is fact, Though in regard to number not exact; It was not two black crows, 'twas only one; The truth of that you may depend upon. The gentleman himself told me the case." " Where may I find him ?” “Why,-in such a place." Away he goes, and having found him out, “ Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt." Then to his last informant he referred, And begged to know if true what he had heard. “ Did you, sir, throw up a black crow ?” “Not I !" “ Bless me! how people propagate a lie! Black crows have been thrown up, three, two, and one, And here I find at last all comes to none'

Did you say nothing of a crow at all ?” “ Crow-crow—perhaps I might, now I recall The matter over.” “And pray, sir, what was't ?" “ Why, I was horrid sick, and, at the last, I did throw up, and told my neighbor so, Something that was as black, sir, as a crow.”



In Broad-street buildings, (on a winter night,)
Snug by his parlor fire, a gouty wight

Sat all alone, with one hand rubbing
His feet, rolled up in fleecy hose,
With t'other he'd beneath his nose
The Public Ledger, in whose columns grubbing
He noted all the sales of hops,

Ships, shops, and slops,
Gum, galls, and groceries, ginger, gin,
Tar, tallow, tumcric, turpentine, and tin;

When, lo! a decent personage in black,
Entered and most politely said

“Your footman, sir, has gone his nightly track To the-Kings Head, And left your door ajar, which I Observed in passing by ;

And thought it neighborly to give you notice." Ten thousand thanks—how very few get

In time of danger

Such kind attentions from a stranger!
Assuredly that fellow's throat is
Doomed to a final drop at Newgate :
He knows, 100, (the unconscious ell,)
That there's no soul at home except myself.

Indeed! replied the stranger, (looking grave,)

Then he's a double knave:
He knows that rogues and thieves by scores
Nightly beset unguarded doors :
And see, how easily might one

Of these domestic foes,

Even beneath your very nose, Perform his knavish tricks;

Enter your room, as I have dono,

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