Then if you like a single horse, For some have broken both their knees, If you've a friend at Chelsea end, Long stages run from every yard; Like miners going all your way, With boring and with blasting. Instead of journeys, people now Tho' with a load it may explode, To speak of every kind of coach, Deserves a little mention; The world a sage has called a stage, And Malthus swears it always bears The law will transfer house or land For lighter things, watch, brooches, rings, EPICUREAN REMINISCENCES OF A SENTIMENTALIST. "My Tables! Meat it is, I set it down!-HAMLET. I THINK it was Spring-but not certain I am— 'Twas at Christmas, I think, when I met with Miss Chase, Yes, for Morris had asked me to dine,And I thought I had never beheld such a face, Or so noble a turkey and chine. Placed close by her side, it made others quite wild, With sheer envy to witness my luck; How she blushed as I gave her some turtle, and smiled As I afterwards offered some duck. I looked and I languished, alas, to my cost, Through three courses of dishes and meats; Getting deeper in love—but my heart was quite lost, When it came to the trifle and sweets! With a rent-roll that told of my houses and land. I asked her to have me for weal or for woe, We went to it certainly was the seaside; O never may memory lose sight of that year, That season the "grass" was remarkably dear, So happy, like hours, all our days seemed to haste, A fond pair, such as poets have drawn, A long life I looked for of bliss with my bride, My dearest took ill at the turn of the year, But something it seemed like consumption, I fear, In vain she was doctored, in vain she was dosed, For months still I lingered in hope and in doubt, She died, and she left me the saddest of men Oh, I felt all the power of solitude then, But when I beheld Virtue's friends in their cloaks, And with sorrowful crape on their hats, O my grief poured a flood! and the out-of-door folks, Were all crying-I think it was sprats! I'M NOT A SINGLE MAN. "Double, single, and the rub."-HOYLE. I. WELL, I confess, I did not guess Would make me find all women-kind They need not, sure, as distant be As Java or Japan,— Yet every Miss reminds me this I'm not a single man! II. Once they made choice of my bass voice So well I danced, I somehow chanced To stand in every set: They now declare I cannot sing, And dance on Bruin's plan; Me draw-me paint!-me any thing!— I'm not a single man! III. Once I was asked advice, and tasked And "would I read that passage out They then could bear to hear one read; How they would snub, "My pretty page," IV. One used to stitch a collar then, I once could get a button on, V. Oh how they hated politics Thrust on me by papa : But now my chat-they all leave that |