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For myself, I shall always obey your commands;
I remain, &c. &c. F. BRD-TT. Mr. G. P. and Mr. R. H.
THE SAILOR'S CREED..
[From the same, July 31.] AS S a Sailor, while working my passage through life,
Many hands I with grief oft remark, Dishearten'd at failures in this scene of strife,
In despair let chance pilot their bark.
Stupify'd they relinquish the oar:
Beneath e'en a lubber ou shore.
Averse to our hopes the wind veer'd,
On our starboard-side breakers appear'd.
" All is over- our efforts are vain ! In less than a glass, at the bottom, Jack, we
Shall be strangers to fear, hope, or pain!
$* The wind still against us continues to blow;
Ev'ry chance of escaping is past;
For the leak, messmate, gains on us fast !"“ Well, brother," said I,“ with fear yield not the ghost,
If so be as how danger you scan ;
Do your duty, and die like a man!”
Each his part anxious' well to perform ;
And in safety we weather'd the storm.
Though calamities fast on us press,
And superior we rise to distress.
I regard not the end of a rope.
Ay-and still let our anchor be Hope.
And, the shoals of adversity pass'd,
We shall gain a fair haven at last.
Though unprincipled arrogant elves
Yet, if Britons are true to themselves, Their daring illusions must quickly decay,
Nor longer our glories deform. With B -t, Tr-n's sons will, in trenibling dismay,
View the Albion weather the storm.
THE PERFECT AGREEMENT.
[From the British Press, Aug. 2.) CRIED a wealthy
old Cit t'other day to his Wife, «The times may be bad but for me on my life, I laugh at these men who have faildone and allFor I says that the weakest must go to the wall.”
" And I," said his Lady,
approve your remark For I said just the same-t' other night-to our Clerk."
Address'd a rich Widow in suit most profound : “ Fair Lady, if you
but my courtship approve, You will find me well letter'd and handsomely lound. “ That style,” cried the Widow, “ my Library meets For I hear that your Works took but poorly-in Sheets."
ON A CELEBRATED BOOK OF COOKERY.
[From the Morning Post, Aug. 8.] AN N Authoress, of culinary fame,
Skill'd in the art which practice long had taught her, In cooking greens, if well you 'd do the same,
Most wisely bids you “ boil them in cold water !!”
LONG AND SHORT HORNED BREEDERS.
[From the British Press, Aug. 14.] OF Bulls and their qualities, which
Then success to John Bull, and his horns, which are strong,
TRICKS OF NEWSMEN.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE MORNING POST.
[Aug. 17.] SIR, I AM afraid you must do me the favour to provide
me with another Newsman; the person who has hitherto supplied me with papers I have long known to be an idle fellow and a drunkard; but, for the sake of his large family, mere compassion lias induced me to persevere in employing him. But now, Sir, besides going down in the world, he has turned politician it seems, and quite an arrant patriot, at least I judge so from a certain twist he has taken in the way of forwarding my newspapers. It was only this morning that he had the inpudence to send me down a certain “ Talent” Journal, instead of your decent, steady Morning Post; and, to complete the joke, the fellow was wise enough to stick a scrap of writingpaper between the folds, haif covered with stains of tobacco and porter, on which he had contrived to scratch, in a scarce legible hand,
“SiR-Hope you'll excuse me sending you that d-mn-d Post any longer~no sober Gemman can bear to read it. I gives you our-to-day, and you
'I1 find a particular good account of Welsly, and of great use to the cause.
Sir, am yours,
“GREG. GRUMBLE." When we had dune laughing at this characteristic puff, I gave the paper to my friend Dr. Solid, who happened to be present (my wife, poor woman, being
troubled with a flatulency, had sent for him); but all the account the good Doctor could give us of “ Welsly” was, that in one part of the paper there appeared to be a pass in the rear of his army, which the French would find absolutely impregnable; and in another part of the same Journal, “ WELSLY," Sir, was transformed into a chèss-player, who knew that he “ must be finally check-mated,” move in what direction he pleased.
Dr. S. appeared to muse for a few seconds, and then, raising his spectacles on his forehead, he turned to me:
“ My good friend, Hopeful, it seems passing strange that such things should be in such a country as this; but I have for some time observed, and you know I am a pretty close observer, that the Editors of two or three of the London Journals have of late been af flicted with a train of disorders, which, on different occasions, and in different constitutions, assume a variety of aspects: the leading diagnostic strikes me to be, a depression of spirits, accompanied by frequent eructations of foul wind--an utter loathing of all wholesome and nutritious aliment, or a speedy rejection of it, if accidentally swallowed--a voracious craving for all sorts of acid, bitter, and even bony substances, litterly indigestible by any healthy stomach-together with a perpetual fretfulness, peevishness, and moroseness, venting itself in passionate exclamations on things in general, but more particularly on public affairs, and in strange contradictions of their own stories. In short, many of the symptoms are those of mere dyspepsia ; but there are nun. berless anomalies which I have not yet mentioned, and for which, in truth, I am at a loss to account. A curious coincidence in point of time is, that the complaint never appeared io take a serious turn until the hopes of the Spaniards began to revive; and espe