They heard him, and began. All hurry-scurry,
They set to work instanter,

But presently they slackened from their hurry
Into a species of snail's canter.
The surgeon, who had had his fill

Of stench, and trembled for his bill,
Saw day by day, with aggravated loathing,
That they were only dabbling, paddling,
Twiddling, and fiddle-faddling,

And helping one another to do nothing;
So called the foreman in, and begged to know,
As a great favour, when they meant to go.

Why," quoth the honest man, scratching his nob,
Not afore master gets another job."

The surgeon stormed and swore, but took the hint,
Laid in a double stock of lint,

And to his patients at the "Plough" dispenses,
Week after week, new pills and plasters;
Looks very grave on their disasters,

And will not answer for the consequences,
If they presume to use their arms or feet,
Before their cure is quite complete.

No, no," he mutters, "they shall be "Served as the painters treated me;

"And, if my slowness they reproach, "I'll tell them they shall leave the place "The moment there's another race "Run by the patent safety coach."

HORACE SMITH.

THE THREE BLACK CROWS.

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!" "I dont know what it is,"

Replied his friend. "No! I'm surprised at that,

· Where I come from it is the common chat:

R

"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 who lives not far from 'Change, "This week, in short, as all the Alley knows, Taking a vomit, threw up three black crows!" Impossible!" Nay, but 'tis really true;

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"I had it from good hands, and so may you."

From whose, I pray?" So, having named the man, Straight to enquire, his curious comrade ran.

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Sir, did you tell?" relating the affair.

Yes, sir, I did; and, if 'tis worth your care

'Twas Mr.-such an one- -who told it me;

"But by the bye, 'twas two black crows, not three!" Resolved to trace so wond'rous an event,

Quick to the third the virtuoso went.

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"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 I find him ?" may

Why, in"-such a place.

Away he went, and having found him out,
Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt."

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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?"

Black crows have been thrown up, three, two, and one; And here, I find, all comes at last to none!

Did you say nothing of a crow at all ?"

Crow-crow-perhaps I might; now I recall

And pray, sir, what was't?" Why I was horrid sick, and at the last

"I did throw up, and told my neighbour so,

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Something that was—as black, sir, as a crow."

DR. BYROM.

THE TINKER AND THE GLAZIER.

SINCE gratitude, 'tis said, is not o'er common,
And friendly acts are pretty near as few ;

With high and low, with man, and eke with woman,
With Turk, with Pagan, Christian, and with Jew;
We ought, at least, whene'er we chance to find
Of these rare qualities a slender sample,
To show they may possess the human mind,
And try the boasted influence of example.
Who knows how far the novelty may charm?
At all events, it cannot do much harm.

The tale we give, then, and we need not fear
The moral, if there be one, will appear.
Two thirsty souls met on a sultry day,

One Glazier Dick, the other Tom the Tinker;
Both with light purses, but with spirits gay,
And hard it were to name the sturdiest drinker.
Their ale they quaff'd,

And as they swigg'd the nappy,

They both agreed 'tis said,

That trade was wondrous dead;

They joked, sung, laughed,

And were completely happy.

Now Dick, the glazier, feels his bosom burn
To do his friend, Tom Tinker, a good turn;
And when the heart to friendship feels inclined,
Occasion seldom loiters long behind.

The kettle gaily singing on the fire,

Gives Dick a hint just to his heart's desire;

And while to draw more ale the landlord goes,

Dick in the ashes all the water throws;

Then puts the kettle on the fire again,
And at the tinker winks,

As" trade's success!" he drinks;

Nor doubts the wish'd success Tom will obtain. Our landlord ne'er could such a toast withstand, So giving each kind customer a hand,

His friendship, too, display'd

And drank "success to trade!"

But O, how pleasure vanish'd from his eye,
How long and rueful his round visage grew,
Soon as he saw the kettle's bottom fly;

Solder the only fluid he could view.
He rav'd, he caper'd, and he swore,
And cursed the kettle's body o'er and o'er.

“Come, come," says Dick, "fetch us, my friend, more ale, “All trades, you know, must live ;

Let's drink, may trade with none of us e'er fail,'
"The job to Tom, then give;

“And, for the ale he drinks, our lad of metal,
- Take my word for it, soon will mend the kettle.”
The landlord yields, but hopes 'tis no offence,
To curse the trade that thrives at his expense.
Tom undertakes the job; to work he goes,
And just concludes it with the evening's close.
Souls so congenial had friends Tom and Dick,
Each might be call'd a loving brother;

Thought Tom, to serve my friend I know a trick,
And one good turn, in truth, deserves another.
Out now he slily slips,

But not a word he said,

The plot was in his head,
And off he nimbly trips,

Swift to a neighbouring church his way he takes ;
Nor in the dark,

Misses his mark,

But every pane of glass he quickly breaks.

Back as he goes,

His bosom glows

To think how great will be his friend Dick's joy
At getting so much excellent employ :

Return'd, he beckoning, draws his friend aside-
Importance in his face;

And to Dick's ear his mouth applied,

Thus briefly states the case:

"I've done your business most complete, my friend;
"Each window in the church you've got to mend—
"Ingratitude's worst curse my head befall,
“If for your sake I have not broke them all."

Tom with surprise sees Dick turn pale,
Who deeply sighs "O law!"

Then drops his under jaw,

And all his powers of utterance fail;
At length, friend Dick his speech regained,
And soon the mystery explained,—
"You have, indeed, my business done!

"And I, as well as you, must run;

For let me act the best I can,

Tom, Tom, I am a ruin'd man.

"Zounds! zounds! this piece of friendship costs me dear, "I always mend church windows-by the year!"

ANON.

THE TOWN AND COUNTRY MICE.

ONCE on a time (so runs the fable),
A country mouse, right hospitable,
Received a town mouse at his board,
Just as a farmer might a lord:
A frugal mouse, upon the whole,
Yet loved his friend, and had a soul;
Knew what was handsome, and would do 't,
On just occasion, coûte qu'il coûte.

He brought him bacon, nothing lean;
Pudding, that might have pleased a dean;
Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make,
But wish'd it Stilton for his sake;
Yet, to his guest though no way sparing,
He eat himself the rind and paring.
Our courtier scarce could touch a bit,
But show'd his breeding and his wit:
He did his best to seem to eat,

And cried,- I vow you're mighty neat:

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'But, my dear friend, this savage scene!

'For Heaven's sake, come and live with men :
Consider, mice, like men, must die,

Both small and great, both you and I;

Then spend your life in joy and sport.
This doctrine, friend, I learned at court."