Our teeth like pearl, our cheeks like roses.
Our eyes like stars, such charming noses!
Explain our dreams, awake and sleeping,
Explain our blushing, laughing, weeping.

3. Teach us, dear doctor, if you can,
To humble that proud creature, man;
To turn the wise ones into fools,
The proud and insolent to tools;
To make them all run, helter skelter,.
Their necks into the marriage halter:
Then leave us to ourselves with these,
We'll turn and rule them as we please.
Dear doctor, if you grant our wishes,
We promise you five hundred kisses;
And, rather than the affair be blundered,
We'll give you six-score to the hundred.

LESSON XLVII.

A DECEIVER DECEIVED.

HALL

Sir Christopher. And so, friend Blackletter, you are just come from college?

Quiz. Yes, sir.

Sir. Ch. Ah, Mr. Blackletter, I once loved the name of a college, until my son proved so worthless.

Quiz. In the name of all the literati, what do you mean? You fond of books, and not bless your stars in giving you such a son!

Sir Ch. Ah, sir, he was once a youth of promise. But do you know him?

Quiz. What! Frederick Classic? ay, that I do, heaven be praised!

Sir Ch. I tell you, Mr. Blackletter, he is wonderfully changed.

Quiz. And a lucky change for him. What! I suppose he was once a wild young fellow?

Sir Ch. No, sir, you don't understand me, or I don't you. I tell you, he neglects his studies, and is foolishly in love; for which I shall certainly cut him off with a shilling.

Quiz. You surprise me, sir. I must beg leave to undeceive you; you are either out of your senses, or some wicked enemy of his has undoubtedly done him this injury. Why, sir, he is in love, I grant you, but it is only with his book. He hardly allows himself time to eat; and as for sleep, he scarcely takes two hours in the twenty-four. This is a thumper; for the dog has not looked into a book these six months, to my certain knowledge. (Aside.)

Sir Ch. I have received a letter from Farmer Downright this very day, who tells me he has received a letter from him, containing proposals for his daughter.

Quiz. This is very strange. I left him at college, as close to his books as-oh, oh-I believe I can solve this mystery, and much to your satisfaction.

Sir Ch. I should be very happy, indeed, if you could. Quiz. Oh, as plain as that two and three are five. 'Tis thus: An envious fellow, a rival of your son's-a fellow who has not as much sense in his whole corporation, as your son has in his little finger-yes, I heard this very fellow ordering a messenger to Farmer Downright with a letter; and this is, no doubt, the very one. Why, sir, your son will certainly sur pass the Admirable Crichton. Sir Isaac Newton will be a per fect automaton, compared with him; and the sages of antiquity if resuscitated, would hang their heads in despair.

Sir Ch. Is it possible that my son is now at college, ma king these great improvements?

Quiz. Ay, that he is, sir.

Sir Ch. (Rubbing his hands.) Oh, the dear fellow! the dear fellow!

Quiz. Sir, you may turn to any part of Homer, and repeat one line, he will take it up, and, by dint of memory, continue repeating to the end of the book.

Sir Ch. Well, well, well! I find I was doing him great injustice. However, I'll make him ample amends. Oh, the dear fellow! the dear fellow! the dear fellow!-(with great joy) he will be immortalized; and so shall I; for if I had not cherished the boy's genius in embryo, he would never have soared above mediocrity.

Quiz. True, sir.

Sir Ch. I cannot but think what superlative pleasure I shall have, when my son has got his education. No other man's in England shall be comparative with it, of that I am positive. Why, sir, the moderns are such dull, plodding, senseless barbarians, that a man of learning is as hard to be found as the unicorn.

Quiz. 'Tis much to be regretted, sir; but such is the lamentable fact.

Sir Ch. Even the shepherds, in days of yore, spoke their mother tongue in Latin; and now, hic, hæc, hoc, is as little understood as the language of the moon.

Quiz. Your son, sir, will be a phenomenon, depend upon it. Sir Ch. So much the better, so much the better. I expected soon to have been in the vocative; for, you know, you found me in the accusative case, and that's very near it—ha! ha! ha!

Quiz. You have reason to be merry, sir, I promise you. Sir Ch. I have, indeed. Well, I shall leave off interjec tions, and promote an amicable conjunction with the dear fel

low. Oh! we shall never think of addressing each other in plain English no, no, we will converse in the pure classical language of the ancients. You remember the Eclogues of Vir gil, Mr. Blackletter ?

Quiz. Oh, yes, sir, perfectly; have 'em at my finger ends. Not a bit of a one did I ever hear of in my life. (Aside.)

Sir Ch. How sweetly the first of them begins!

Quiz. Very sweetly, indeed, sir. (Aside.) Bless me, I wish he would change the subject.

Sir Ch. "Tytere tu patulæ recubans ;" faith, 'tis more musical than fifty hand-organs.

Quiz. (Aside.) I had rather hear a jewsharp.

Sir Ch. Talking of music, though-the Greek is the language for that.

Quiz. Truly, it is.

Sir Ch. Even the conjugations of the verbs far excel the finest sonata of Pleyel or Handel. For instance, "tupto, tupso, tutupha." Can anything be more musical?

Quiz. Nothing. "Stoop low, stoop so, stoop too far." Sir Ch. Ha! ha! ha! "Stoop too far!" That's a good one.

Quiz. (Aside.) Faith, I have stooped too far. All's over now, by Jupiter!

Sir Ch. Ha! ha! ha! a plaguy good pun, Mr. Blackletter. Quiz. Tolerable. (Aside.) I am well out of that scrape, however.

Sir Ch. Pray, sir, which of the classics is your favorite? Quiz. Why, sir, Mr. Frederick Classic, I think he is so great a scholar.

Sir Ch. Po! po! you don't understand me. which of the Latin classics do you admire most?

I mean,

Quiz. Hang it! what shall I say now? (Aside.) The Latin classics? Oh, really, sir, I admire them all so much, it is difficult to say.

Sir Ch. Virgil is my favorite. How very expressive is his description of the unconquerable passion of Queen Dido, where he says, "Hæret lateri lethalis arundo!" Is not that very expressive?

Quiz. Very expressive, indeed, sir. (Aside.) I wish we were forty miles asunder. I shall never be able to hold out much longer, at this rate.

Sir Ch. And Ovid is not without his charms.

Quiz. He is not, indeed, sir.

Sir Ch. And what a dear, enchanting fellow Horace is! Quiz. Wonderfully so!

Sir Ch. Pray, what do you think of Xenophon?

Quiz. Who the plague is he, I wonder? (Aside.) Xenophon! Oh, think he unquestionably wrote good Latin, sir. Sir Ch. Good Latin, man! he wrote Greek-good Greek, you meant.

Quiz. True, sir, I did. Latin, indeed! (In great confusion.) I meant Greek; did I say Latin? I really meant Greek. (Aside.) Bless me! I don't know what I mean myself.

Sir Ch. Oh, Mr. Blackletter, I have been trying a long time to remember the name of one of Achilles' horses, but I can't for life think of it. You doubtless can tell me. Quiz. O yes, his name was-but which of them do you mean? What was he called?

my

Sir Ch. What was he called?

Why, that's the very thing I wanted to know. The one I allude to was born of the Harpy Celano. I can't for the blood of me, tell it.

Quiz. (Aside.) Bless me! if I can either. (To him.) Born of the Harpy-oh! his name was-(striking his forehead.) Gracious! I forget it now. His name was-waswas-strange! 'tis as familiar to me as my A, B, C.

Sir Ch. Oh! I remember-'t was Xanthus, Xanthus