"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.
THE SCHOOLBOY'S COMPLAINT.—Anonymous.
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,
And in his school the war of cane shall cease ;-
I went, and found to finish my mishap,
Instead of cane, a su te called-strap.
Oh! wretched 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.
11. THE THREE BLACK CROWS.-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;
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.
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 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."
12. THE GOUTY MERCHANT AND THE STRANGER.Anonymous.
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, tumeric, 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 King's 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
Such kind attentions from a stranger!
Assuredly that fellow's throat is
Doomed to a final drop at Newgate:
He knows, too, (the unconscious elf,)
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 done,
Blow out your candles-thus-and thus, Pocket your silver candlesticks,
And walk off-thus
So said so done-he made no more remark, Nor waited for replies,
But marched off with his prize, Leaving the gouty merchant in the dark.
13. MISCONCEPTION.-Anonymous.
Ere night her sable curtains spread;
Ere Phœbus had retired to bed
In Thetis's lap;
Ere drowsy watchmen yet had ta'en
Their early nap,
A wight, by hungry fiend made bold,
To farmer Fitz Maurice's fold,
Did slyly creep,
Where numerous flocks were quiet laid
In the arms of sleep.
No doubt the sheep he meant to steal,
But, hapless, close behind his heel,
Was ploughman Joe,
Who just arrived in time to stop
The murderous blow.
May ill luck on ill actions wait!
The felon must to justice straight
Be dragged by force;
Where persecutors urge his guilt,
Without remorse.
With fear o'erwhelmed, the victim stands
Anticipates the dread commands
From the elbow chair,
Where justice sits in solemn state,
Rogue! what excuse hast thou for this? For to old Gilbert Fitz Maurice,
Thou knew'st full well,
The sheep within that fold belonged-
Come, quickly tell.
Confess thy crime; 'twill naught avail
To say, the mark above the tail
Thou didst not heed;
For G. F. M., in letters large,
Thou plain mightst read."
""Tis true, I did," the thief replies,
"But man is not at all times wise;
As I'm a glutton,
I really thought that G. F. M.
Meant-Good, Fat, Mutton!"
THE WIND IN A FROLIC.-Howit.
The wind one morning sprung up from sleep,
Saying "Now for a frolic! now for a leap!
Now for a mad-cap galloping chase!
I'll make a commotion in every place!"
So it swept with a bustle right through a great town,
Creaking the signs, and scattering down
Shutters; and whisking with merciless squalls,
Old women's bonnets and gingerbread stalls;
There never was heard a much lustier shout,
As the apples and oranges tumbled about;
And the urchins, that stand with their thievish eyes
For ever on watch, ran off each with a prize.
Then away to the field it went blustering and humming
And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming;
It plucked by their tails the grave matronly cows,
And tossed the colts' manes all about their brows,
Till, offended at such a familiar salute,
They all turned their backs and stood silently mute.
So on it went, capering and playing its pranks,
Whistling with reeds on the broad river's banks;
Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray,
Or the traveler grave on the king's highway.
It was not too nice to bustle the bags
Of the beggar, and flutter his dirty rags:
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