horses, wanderings, and backslidings, without hesitation, fear, favour, partiality, or affection, as aforesaid. And this you, by your forewoman say, and so you say all.

Take the oath, kiss the cup,

And thus at each sup,

As of folly and whim and caprice make a handle, While round go the muffin, the tea, and the scandal.

Like a torrent let loose now away go their tongues Swift as winds and as light as a feather,

New bonnets, the opera, Bath waters, the hour,
The auctions, the nation, the beasts in the tower;
And, as in succession they stretch out their lungs,
The country, black pin, matadores, and the wea-
ther,

In glorious confusion they jumble together,
And scandal let go to the end of its tether.

Spoken.] How d'ye like your tea?--Vastly good-where do you buy it? I buy it at Congo's.---Oh yes, I recollect the people that broke. Sad business that of the wife---Oh terrible, shocking woman for intrigue---I knew her from a girl always as amorous as a cat upon pantiles---And it is impossible to find her out, she has as many wigs as would serve to disguise a highwayman between Hounslow and Bagshot. Sad example for the daughter. Great pity, pretty girl! Pretty! Why, lord, ma'am, she's flat-footed and hopper-hipped. Sad thing for the father, if you will.---Very true; but lord, ma'am, what can you expect from such people, no fashion in life. The fellow was porter to an oil shop, used to carry out train oil, pickled herrings, zoobditty, match and wax flambeaux. I'll tell you a comical circumstance. No! true; well that's delightful! he, he, ha, haw,

And thus they sip and they sip,
Have their friends on the hip,

And of foibles, and faults, and caprices make a handle,

While round go the toast, the tea and the scandal.

The tea is removed, and now grave and demure
The case bottles are rang'd so judicious,

Noyau, Ratifie, a la Teinture Vermeille,

Eau d'Ore, de Mille Fleurs, Fleur de Lis Sans Pareille,

And every scarce and expensive liqueur

They sip, and they sip, and each sip find delicious, 'Till they get rather whimsical, queer, and capri-, cious,

And their tongues if't be possible, grow more malicious.

Spoken.] Bless me, I don't know what I was thinking of, I have a sort of vertigo, only look at Miss Cholic---She certainly had a little drop before she came out, otherwise you see it is impossible. As for me now, who am not accustomed to these things, a thimbleful turns me quite topsyturvy. Well, ladies suppose we go to cards, with all my heart, but I shall insist upon you keeping your foot in your shoe. I dont name any body, but I do know people that hold up their fingers behind their fans. And I, madam, for I plainly see you mean me, I know of people too that when they are a little non se ipse---I desire, ma'am, you will make no reflections. I never indulge myself to an improper degree----I have heard of your Huskyba, to be sure. Yes, ma'am, and tasted it too. Why yes, I once took a tea spoonful just to oblige you yes, and a bumper just to oblige yourself. Well, I declare this is beyond bearance.--Huskyba, indeed. Here Miss Nerves declared she should go into hysterics. At last the company interfeared; Miss Crab said there was nothing sour in her disposition; Mis Gall said she did not like bitter invectives; Miss Cholic said it gave her pain that her friends should fall out in this manner. At which Miss Razor intreated leave to notice, that

if she had said any thing keen or cutting, she begged pardon, and was sorry for it. This was accepted as an apology, and the company resumed their good humour.

And they sip, and sip,

Have their friends on the hip,

And of foibles, and faults, and caprice make a handle,

While round goes the room, the liqueur and the scandal.

THE THORN.

FROM the white blossom'd sloe my dear Chloe requested

A sprig her dear breast to adorn;

No, by heav'ns, I exclaim'd, may I perish,
If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn.

Then I shew'd her a ring and implor'd her to

marry,

She blush'd like the dawning of morn,

Yes, I'll consent, she replied, if you'il promise That no jealous rival shall laugh me to scorn. No, by heav'ns, &e.

YO HEAVE HO.

MY name d'ye see's Tom Tough, I've seen a little sarvice,

Where mighty billows roll, and loud tempests. blow;

I've sail'd with valiant Howe, I've sail'd with noble: Jarvis,

And in gallant Duncan's fleet I've sung out yoɔ heave ho!

Yet more shall

ye

be knowing,

I was coxswain to Boscawen,

And even with brave Hawke I've nobly fac'd the

foe,

Then push round the grog,

So we've that and our prog,

We'll laugh in Care's face, and sing yo heave ho. When from my love to part I first weigh'd anchor, And she was snivelling seen on the beach below, I'd like to catch'd my eyes snivelling too, d'ye see, to thank her,

But I brought my sorrows up with a yo heave ho. For sailor's though they have their jokes, They love and feel like other folks, Their duty to neglect must not come for to go; So I seiz'd the capstan bar,

Like a true and honest tar,

And in spite of tears and sighs sung yo heave ho.

But the worst on't was that time, when the little ones were sickly,

And if they'd live or die the Doctor did not

know,

The word was giv'd to weigh so sudden and so quickly,

I thought my heart would break as I sung yo heave ho:

For Poll's so like her mother,

And as for Jack her brother,

The boy when he grows up, will nobly fight the foe;

But in Providence I trust,

What must be must,

So my sighs I gave the winds, and sung out yo heave ho.

And now at last laid up in decentish condition,
For l'e lost an eve and got a timber toe;

But old ships must expect in time to be out of commission,

Nor again the anchor weigh with a yo heave ho.

So smoke my pipe and sing old songs,
For my boys shail revenge my wrongs,

And my girls shall breed young sailors nobly for to face the foe:

Then to country and King,

Fate no danger can bring,

While the tars of Old England sing out yo heave ho.

THE WATCHMAN.

A WATCHMAN I am, I know all the rounds The houskeepers, the strays, and the lodgers, Where low devils, rich dons, and high rips may be found,

Odd dickins, queer kids, and rum codgers.

Of money and property,

I'm he that takes the care,
And cries, when I see rogues go by,
Hey! what do you there?

Spoken.]" Only a little busines in that there house---you understand me?"--" Understand you! Well, I believe you are an honest man: Do you hear me, bring me an old silver candlestick.” Then to my box I creep,

And then fall fast asleep.
St. Paul's strikes one,

Thus after all the mischief's done

I goes and gives them warning;

And loudly bawls,

While strikes St. Paul's,

Past one o'clock, and a cloudy morning.

Then round as the hour I merrily cries,
Another fine Miss I discover,

For a curious rope-ladder I straightways espies,
And Miss Forward expecting her lover.
Then to each other's arms they fly,
My life, my soul, ah! ah!..