Presently this mann accostes
Of this hinnocent young gal:
"Pray," saysee, "excuse my freedom,
You're so like my sister Sal!

"You're so like my sister Sally,
Both in valk and face and size,
Miss, that-dang my old lee scuppers-
It brings tears into my heyes!

"I'm a mate on board a wessel,
I'm a sailor bold and true;
Shiver up my poor old timbers,
Let me be a mate for you!

What's your name, my beauty, tell me!"

And she faintly hansers, "Lor,

Sir, my name's Eliza Davis,

And I live at tventy-four."

Hofttimes came this British seaman,
This deluded gal to meet;
And at tventy-four was welcome,
Tventy-four in Guilford Street.

And Eliza told her master

(Kinder they than misuses are), How in marridge he had ast her, Like a galliant British tar.

And he brought his landlady vith him (Vich was all his hartful plan),

And she told how Charley Thompson
Reely vas a good young man :

And how she herself had lived in
Many years of union sweet
Vith a gent she met promiskous,
Valkin in the public street.

And Eliza listened to them,

And she thought that soon their bands Vould be published at the fondlin,

Hand the clergyman jine their ands.

And he ast about the lodgers

(Vich her master let some rooms), Likevise vere they kep their things, and Vere her master kep his spoons.

Hand this vicked Charley Thompson
Came on Sundy veek to see her;

And he sent Eliza Davis

Hout to fetch a pint of beer.

Hand while pore Eliza vent to
Fetch the beer, dewoid of sin,
This etrocious Charley Thompson
Let his wile accomplish hin.

To the lodgers, their apartments,
This abandingd female goes;

Prigs their shirts and umberellas;

Prigs their boots, and hats, and clothes

While the scoundrle Charley Thompson,
Lest his wictim should escape,
Hocust her vith rum and vater,
Like a fiend in huming shape.

But a hi was fixed upon 'em
Vich these raskles little sore;
Namely, Mr. Hide, the landlord
Of the house at tventy-four.

He was valkin in his garden,
Just afore he vent to sup;
And on looking up he sor the
Lodgers' vinders lighted up.

Hup the stairs the landlord tumbled;
Something's going wrong, he said;
And he caught the vicked voman
Underneath the lodger's bed.

And he called a brother pleaceman,
Vich was passing on his beat,
Like a true and galliant feller,

Hup and down in Guilford Street.

And that pleaceman able-bodied

Took this voman to the cell;
To the cell vere she was quodded,
In the Close of Clerkenwell.

And though vicked Charley Thompson Boulted like a miscrant base,

Presently another pleaceman
Took him to the self-same place.

And this precious pair of raskles
Tuesday last came up for doom;
By the beak they was committed,
Vich his name was Mr. Combe.

Has for poor Eliza Davis,

Simple gal of tventy-four, She, I ope, vill never listen

In the streets to sailors moar.

But if she must ave a sweet-art
(Vich most every gal expex),
Let her take a jolly pleaceman;
Vich his name peraps is-X.

-"Ballads of Policeman X."

Sorrows of Werther

WERTHER had a love for Charlotte
Such as words could never utter.

Would you know how first he met her?
She was cutting bread and butter.

Charlotte was a married lady,

And a moral man was Werther,

And, for all the wealth of Indies,

Would do nothing for to hurt her.

So he sighed and pined and ogled,

And his passion boiled and bubbled,
Till he blew his silly brains out,

And no more was by it troubled.

Charlotte, having seen his body
Borne before her on a shutter,

Like a well-conducted person

Went on cutting bread and butter.

How Becky Sharp Made an Impression on Joseph Sedley

A VERY stout, puffy man, in buckskins and Hessian boots, with several immense neckcloths, that rose almost to his nose, with a red striped waistcoat and an apple-green coat with steel buttons almost as large as crown pieces (it was the morning costume of a dandy or blood of those days), was reading the paper by the fire when the two girls entered; he bounced off his arm-chair, and blushed excessively, and hid his entire face almost in his neckcloths at this apparition.

"It's only your sister, Joseph," said Amelia, laughing and shaking the two fingers which he held out. "I've come home for good, you know; and this is my friend, Miss Sharp, whom you have heard me mention."

"No, never, upon my word," said the head under the neckcloths, shaking very much-" that is, yes-what abominably cold weather, miss." And herewith he fell to poking the fire with all his might, although it was in the middle of June.