THE THREE BLACK CROWS. BY DR BYROM. 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 don't know what it is," Replied his friend.- "No! I'm surprised at that- 66 Sir, did you tell"—relating the affair; Yes, Sir, I did; and, if 'tis worth your care, 'Twas Mr"-Such-a-one-"who told it me; But, by the bye, 'twas Two black crows, not Three." Quick to the third, the virtuoso went. 66 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 went: and, having found him out,— Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt." Then to his last informant he referr'd, 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; "Crow-crow-perhaps I might,-now I recal I did throw up, and told my neighbour so, 520 THE BABY'S DEBUT. BY JAMES SMITH FROM "REJECTED ADDRESSES." [Spoken in the character of Nancy Lake, a girl eight years of age, who is drawn upon the stage in a child's chaise by Samuel Hughes, her uncle's porter.] My brother Jack was nine in May, So in Kate Wilson's shop Papa (he's my papa and Jack's) Bought me, last week, a doll of wax, Jack's in the pouts, and this it is,— Takes out the doll, and, oh my stars! Quite cross, a bit of string I beg, And bang, with might and main, This made him cry with rage and spite; Aunt Hannah heard the window break, No Drury Lane for you to-day!" Well, after many a sad reproach, They got into a hackney coach, 1 The "Rejected Addresses" were suggested to the "witty brothers" James and Horace Smith (now both dead, by the offer of a "premium for an Address to be spoken" at the opening of the new Drury Lane Theatre in 1812;-the former building had been de stroyed by fire. The "Addresses" bore the names of the most popular writers, and are felicitous burlesques of their styles: that in the text imitates Wordsworth's manner. And trotted down the street. The chaise in which poor brother Bill I wiped the dust from off the top, My uncle's porter, Samuel Hughes, So what does he, but takes and drags My father's walls are made of brick, What a large floor! 'tis like a town! At first I caught hold of the wing, "You've only got to curtsey, whisp- But while I'm speaking, where's papa? 522 THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GKINDER. They smile, they nod; I'll go my ways And now, good gentlefolks, I go [Blows kiss, and exit.] THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER. Needy Knife-grinder! whither are you going? Weary Knife-grinder! little think the proud ones, Tell me, Knife-grinder, how came you to grind knives? Or the attorney? Was it the squire, for killing of his game? or (Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom Paine ?) Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids, Ready to fall, as soon as you have told your Pitiful story. Knife-grinder. Story! God bless you, I have none to tell, Sir; Constables came up for to take me into Stocks for a vagrant. I should be glad to drink your honour's health in With politics, Sir. Friend of Humanity. I give thee sixpence! I will see thee hanged first— Spiritless outcast! [Kicks the Knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a transport of republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy.] THE FIELD OF GILBOA. BY WILLIAM KNOX. The sun of the morning looked forth from his throne, And there lay the husband that lately was pressed To the beautiful cheek that was tearless and ruddy—、 Now the claws of the vulture were fixed in his breast, And the beak of the vulture was busy and bloody. And there lay the son of the widowed and sad, On the delicate limb that had ceased not to quiver. And there came the daughter, the desolate child, To hold up the head that was breathless and hoary ; |