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world at large. Let us not reproach Russia with this condition of comparative sterility; she has earned her rest, after the great harvests which have enriched this great empire with a lasting treasure, which have assured to her, in the intellectual and moral universe, a place proportionate to that which she fills on the terrestrial globe.

Niente E. M. de Vozung

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DB L'ACADÉMIE FRANÇAISE,

28th April 1899.

SALLY IN OUR ALLEY.

BY HENRY CAREY.

[HENRY CAREY, poet and composer, was the illegitimate son of George Savile, Marquis of Halifax; born in the latter part of e seventeenth century. He studied thorough-bass under notable teachers, but was successful only in light compositions, writing popular musical farces, ballads, etc. His best known lyric is that below; he is credited also with “God Save the King"; and his satiric skit “Namby-Pamby" (1729), on Ambrose Phillips, has given us the adjective. His burlesque tragedy “Chrononhotonthologos” is remembered as once much quoted. His songs were collected in “ The Musical Century" (1740). He died in 1743. ]

OF ALL the girls that are so smart

There's none like pretty Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.
There is no lady in the land

Is half so sweet as Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

Her father he makes cabbage nets

And through the streets does cry 'em;
Her mother she sells laces long

To such as please to buy 'em :
But sure such folks could ne'er beget

So sweet a girl as Sally!
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

When she is by, I leave my work,
I love her so sincerely;

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My master comes like any Turk,

And bangs me most severely -
But let him bang his bellyful,

I'll bear it all for Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

Of all the days that's in the week

I dearly love but one day-
And that's the day that comes betwixt

A Saturday and Monday;
For then I'm drest all in my best

To walk abroad with Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

My master carries me to church,

And often am I blamed
Because I leave him in the lurch

As soon as text is named;
I leave the church in sermon time

And slink away to Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

When Christmas comes about again

O then I shall have money; I'll hoard it up, and box it all,

I'll give it to my honey :
I would it were ten thousand pounds,

I'd give it all to Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

My master and the neighbors all

Make game of me and Sally, And, but for her, I'd better be

A slave and row a galley ; But when my seven long years are out

O then I'll marry Sally; O then we'll wed, and then we'll bed

But not in our alley!

COLLEY CIBBER'S APOLOGY FOR HIS LIFE.

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[COLLEY CIBBER, actor, manager, and playwright, was the son of a Holstein sculptor named Cibert by an English wife ; born in London, 1671. His first known appearance on the stage was in 1691 ; he created many parts. Some of his plays long held the stage : as “Love's Last Shift,” “ The Careless Husband, " The Provoked Husband," “ The Double Gallant," and his acting recensions of Shakespeare, notably “ Richard III.," which displaced the original till quite recently. He was made poet-laureate in 1730; and Pope — along with a pamphlet warfare, in which Cibber, assailed without provocation and replying in a genial temper, had the best — removed Theobald from his post as protagonist of the “Dunciad” and put Cibber in his place, but so unfittingly that the absurdity recoiled on the poet. Cibber wrote his “ Apology (autobiography) in 1740, and died in 1757.]

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You know, Sir, I have often told you that one time or other I should give the Publick some Memoirs of my own Life; at which you have never failed to laugh, like a Friend, without saying a word to dissuade me from it; concluding, I suppose, that such a wild Thought could not possibly require a serious Answer. But you see I was in earnest. And now you will say the World will find me, under my own Hand, a weaker Man than perhaps I may have passed for, even among my Enemies. With all my heart! my Enemies will then read me with Pleasure, and you, perhaps, with Envy, when you find that Follies, without the Reproach of Guilt upon them, are not inconsistent with Happiness. But why make my Follies publick? Why not? I have passed my Time very pleasantly with them, and I don't recollect that they have ever been hurtful to any other Man living. Even admitting they were injudiciously chosen, would it not be Vanity in me to take Shame to myself for not being found a Wise Man? Really, Sir, my Appetites were in

a too much haste to be happy, to throw away my Time in pursuit of a Name I was sure I could never arrive at.

Now the Follies I frankly confess I look upon as in some measure discharged; while those I conceal are still keeping the Account open between me and my Conscience. To me the Fatigue of being upon a continual Guard to hide them is more than the Reputation of being without them can repay. If this be Weakness, defendit numerus, I have such comfortable Numbers on my side, that were all Men to blush that are not Wise, I am afraid, in Ten, Nine Parts of the World ought to be out of Countenance: But since that sort of Modesty is what they don't care to come into, why should I be afraid of being

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