NO. III.

"I'd be a Parody."-BAILEY.

WE met 'twas in a mob-and I thought he had done me

I felt I could not feel-for no watch was upon

me;

He ran the night was cold-and his pace was unaltered,

I too longed much to pelt-but my small-boned legs faltered.

I wore my bran new boots-and unrivalled their brightness,

They fit me to a hair-how I hated their tightness!

I called, but no one came, and my stride had a tether!

Oh thou hast been the cause of this anguish, my leather!

And once again we met—and an old pal was near him,

He swore, a something low-but 'twas no use to fear him;

I seized upon his arm, he was mine and mine

only,

And stept as he deserved-to cells wretched and

lonely:

And there he will be tried-but I shall ne'er receive her,

The watch that went too sure for an artful de

ceiver;

The world may think me gay,-heart and feet ache together,

Oh thou hast been the cause of this anguish, my leather.

FRENCH AND ENGLISH.

"Good heaven! Why even the little children in France speak

French!"

ADDISON.

Chaises stand for chairs,
They christen letters Billies,
They call their mothers mares,
And all their daughters fillies;
Strange it was to hear,

I'll tell you what's a good 'un,
They call their leather queer,
And half their shoes are wooden.

III.

Signs I had to make,
For every little notion,
Limbs all going like
A telegraph in motion,
For wine I reeled about,
To show my meaning fully,
And made a pair of horns,
To ask for "beef and bully."

IV.

Moo! I cried for milk;

I got my sweet things snugger,

When I kissed Jeannette,
"Twas understood for sugar.
If I wanted bread,

My jaws I set a-going,

And asked for new-laid eggs,
By clapping hands and crowing!

OUR village, that's to say, not Miss Mitford's village, but our village of Bullock Smithy,

Is come into by an avenue of trees, three oak pollards, two elders, and a withy;

And in the middle, there's a green of about not exceeding an acre and a half;

It's common to all, and fed off by nineteen cows, six ponies, three horses, five asses, two foals, seven pigs, and a calf!

Besides a pond in the middle, as is held by a similar sort of common law lease,

And contains twenty ducks, six drakes, three ganders, two dead dogs, four drowned kittens, and twelve geese.

Of course the green's cropt very close, and does famous for bowling when the little village boys play at cricket;

Only some horse, or pig, or cow, or great jackass, is sure to come and stand right before the

wicket.

There's fifty-five private houses, let alone barns and workshops, and pigstyes, and poultry huts, and such-like sheds;

With plenty of public-houses-two Foxes, one Green Man, three Bunch of Grapes, one Crown, and six King's Heads.

The Green Man is reckoned the best, as the only one that for love or money can raise

A postilion, a blue jacket, two deplorable lame white horses, and a ramshackled "neat postchaise."

There's one parish church for all the people, whatsoever may be their ranks in life or their

degrees,

Except one very damp, small, dark, freezing-cold, little Methodist chapel of Ease;

And close by the churchyard, there's a stonemason's yard, that when the time is seasonable

Will furnish with afflictions sore and marble urns and cherubims very low and reasonable. There's a cage, comfortable enough; I've been in it with Old Jack Jeffrey and Tom Pike; For the Green Man next door will send you in ale, gin, or any thing else you like.

I can't speak of the stocks, as nothing remains of them but the upright post;

But the pound is kept in repairs for the sake of Cob's horse, as is always there almost.

There's a smithy of course, where that queer sort of a chap in his way, Old Joe Bradley, Perpetually hammers and stammers, for he stutters and shoes horses very badly.

There's a shop of all sorts, that sells every thing, kept by the widow of Mr. Task;

But when you go there it's ten to one she's out of every thing you ask.

You'll know her house by the swarm of boys, like flies, about the old sugary cask:

There are six empty houses, and not so well papered inside as out,

For billstickers won't beware, but stick notices of sales and election placards all about.

That's the Doctor's with a green door, where the garden pots in the windows is seen;

A weakly monthly rose that don't blow, and a dead geranium, and a tea-plant with five black leaves and one green.

As for hollyoaks at the cottage doors, and honeysuckles and jasmines, you may go and whistle; But the Tailor's front garden grows two cabbages, a dock, a ha'porth of pennyroyal, two dandelions, and a thistle.

There are three small orchards-Mr. Busby's the schoolmaster's is the chief

With two pear-trees that don't bear; one plum and an apple, that every year is stripped by a thief.

There's another small day-school too, kept by the respectable Mrs. Gaby,

A select establishment, for six little boys and one big, and four little girls and a baby;

There's a rectory, with pointed gables and strange odd chimneys that never smokes,