'Plague on those rats!" the landlord muttered out; I'll pay Vill you dis charge forego, vat I am at, Bring to dis spot a leetal bread and cheese,- And den invite de rats to sup vid you: And after dat, no matter dey be villing, -- For vat dey eat, you charge dem just ten shelang: Dey'll quit your house, and never come no more." MISS MARY,—WHAT SHE IS AND WHAT SHE DOES. MISS MARY is a charming maid, A comely lass is she; She every morning coffee drinks, She's never gadding in the street, Her eyes are parted by her nose,— She has a very pretty foot, On sunny days she sports a shawl,- t She''s virtue's self personified, She scorns to do a wrong; She keeps her tongue between her teeth, The poor have always found her kind, Each leisure moment she employs, She ties her apron on before,— Whenever she a shopping went, She paid for what she bought; Small faults she has, and who has not, Accomplishments like these would make NOT A SOUS HAD HE GOT. Nor a sous had he got,-not a guinea or note, As he bolted away without paying his shot, [Hood. We saw him again at dead of night, All bare, and exposed to the midnight dews, "The doctor's as drunk as a fool," we said, We raised him, and sighed at the thought that his head We bore him home, and we put him to bed, Loudly they talked of his money that's gone, From his room in the uppermost story; A rushlight was placed on the cold hearthstone, [R. H. Barham. AN ADDRESS TO THE ECHO. The reply by the Echo will be most effectively performed by having the speaker concealed from the audience. IF I address the Echo yonder, What will its answer be, I wonder? Echo,-I wonder ! * Name of a person that pretended to be the author of the piece on which this is a parody. O wondrous Echo, tell me, bless 'e, If, then, to win the maid, I try, If neither grave nor funny If I should try to gain her heart, She may n't love dress, and I again then To please her most, perhaps, 't is best Then, if to marry me I tease her, When cross, and good words can't appease her, When wed, she 'll change, for Love's no sticker, To leave me, then, I can't compel her, The doubting youth to Echo turned again, sir, FLOGGING AN EDITOR. What edits the paper ? I've come to tan Your hide for that caper. You called me a villain,—you called me a rogue, A way of speaking, sir, too much in vogue, With you fellows that handle the printing press: Defend yourself, sir! I demand a redress.” The editor quailed, Decidedly paled; But just at the moment his courage gave way His genius stepped in, and gained him the day. "I'm not the person you seek," he said; "If you want redress, go straight to the head. He's not far off, and will settle affairs, I have n't a doubt: I'll call him up stairs." As if he were sent, A fire, or something worse, to prevent. |