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The flier, though 't had leaden feet,

Turn'd round so quick, you scarce could see 't;
But, slacken'd by some secret power,

Now hardly moves an inch an hour.
The jack and chimney, near allied,
Had never left each other's side:
The chimney to a steeple grown,
The jack would not be left alone;
But, up against the steeple rear'd,
Became a clock, and still adhered;
And still its love to household cares,
By a shrill voice at noon, declares;
Warning the cook-maid not to burn
That roast-meat which it cannot turn.
The groaning-chair began to crawl,
Like a huge snail, along the wall;
There stuck aloft in public view,
And, with small change, a pulpit grew.
The porringers, that in a row
Hung high, and made a glittering show,
To a less noble substance changed,
Were now but leathern buckets ranged,
The ballads, pasted on the wall,
Of Joan of France, and English Moll,
Fair Rosamond, and Robin Hood,
The Little Children in the Wood,
Now seem'd to look abundance better,
Improved in picture, size, and letter;
And, high in order placed, describe
The heraldry of every tribe.'

A bedstead of the antique mode,
Compact of timber many a load,
Such as our ancestors did use,
Was metamorphosed into pews;
Which still their ancient nature keep,
By lodging folks disposed to sleep.

The cottage by such feats as these
Grown to a church by just degrees,
The hermits then desired their host
To ask for what he fancied most.
Philemon, having paused a while,
Return'd them thanks in homely style:
Then said, My house is grown so fine,
Methinks I still would call it mine;
I'm old, and fain would live at ease;
Make me the parson, if you please,

He spoke, and presently he feels
His grazier's coat fall down his heels;
He sees, yet hardly can believe,
About each arm a pudding-sleeve;
His waistcoat to a cassock grew,
And both assumed a sable hue;

1 The tribes of Israel are sometimes distinguished in country churches by the ensigns given to them by Jacob.

But, being old, continued just
As thread-bare, and as full of dust.
His talk was now of tithes and dues:

He smoked his pipe, and read the news;
Knew how to preach old sermons next,
Vamp'd in the preface and the text;
At christenings well could act his part,
And had the service all by heart;
Against dissenters would repine,
And stood up firm for right divine;
Found his head fill'd with many a system:
But classic authors,-he ne'er miss'd 'em.

Thus having furbish'd up a parson,
Dame Baucis next they play'd their farce or..
Instead of home-spun coifs, were seen
Good pinners edged with colberteen;
Her petticoat, transform'd apace,
Became black satin flounced with lace.
Plain Goody would no longer down:
'Twas Madam, in her grogram gown.
Philemon was in great surprise,
And hardly could believe his eyes,
Amazed to see her look so prim;
And she admired as much at him.
Thus happy in their change of life
Were several years this man and wife;
When on a day, which proved their last,
Discoursing o'er old stories past,

They went by chance, amidst their talk,

To the churchyard, to take a walk;

When Baucis hastily cried out,

My dear, I see your forehead sprout!

Sprout! quoth the man; what's this you tell us?

hope you don't believe me jealous!

But yet, methinks, I feel it true;

And really yours is budding too-
Nay, now I cannot stir my foot;
It feels as if 'twere taking root.

Description would but tire my muse;
In short, they both were turn'd to yews.
Old Goodman Dobson of the green
Remembers he the trees has seen;
He'll talk of them from noon till night,
And goes with folks to show the sight:
On Sundays, after evening-prayer,
He gathers all the parish there;
Points out the place of either yew,
Here Baucis, there Philemon, grew;
Till once a parson of our town,
To mend his barn, cut Baucis down;
At which 'tis hard to be believed
How much the other tree was grieved,
Grew scrubbed, died a-top, was stunted;
So the next parson stubb'd and burnt it.

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THOMAS YALDEN. 1671-1736.

THOMAS YALDEN was born in the city of Exeter, in 1671, and in 1690 was admitted in Magdalen College, Oxford. His first public appearance as a poet was in an "Ode to St. Cecilia's Day," published in 1693, which was fol lowed by several other poems. Having entered the ministry, he succeeded Atterbury, in 1698, as lecturer at Bridewell Hospital, and in 1707 received the degree of Doctor of Divinity. Having received various preferments in the church, he died July 16, 1736; having to the end of his life, as Dr. Johnson remarks, "retained the friendship and frequented the conversation of a very numerous and splendid set of acquaintances."

Yalden's poetry may be found in the collections of Johnson and Chalmers, but it has very little meri. As a prose writer, however, he has great humor, being the author of the paper entitled "'Squire Bickerstaff detected; or the Astrological Impostor convicted, by John Partridge, Student in Physic and Astrology," which he drew up on Partridge's application, and which that per son is said to have printed and published without perceiving the joke.

JOHN PARTRIDGE'S DEFENCE.

It is hard, my dear countrymen of these united nations, it is very hard, that a Briton born, a protestant astrologer, a man of revolution principles, an assertor of the liberty and property of the people, should cry out in vain for justice against a Frenchman, a papist, and an illiterate pretender to science, that would blast my reputation, most inhumanly bury me alive, and defraud my native country of those services, which, in my double capacity, I daily offer the public.

It was towards the conclusion of the year 1707, when an impu dent pamphlet crept into the world, intituled, Predictions, etc., by Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq. Amongst the many arrogant assertions laid down by that lying spirit of divination, he was pleased to pitch on the Cardinal de Noailles and myself, among many other eminent and illustrious persons that were to die within the compass of the ensuing year; and peremptorily fixes the month, day, and hour of our deaths. This, I think, is sporting with great men, and public spirits, to the scandal of religion and reproach of power; and if sovereign princes and astrologers must make diver sion for the vulgar-why then farewell, say I, to all govern ments, ecclesiastical and civil. But, I thank my better stars, 1 am alive to confront this false and audacious predictor, and to make him rue the hour he ever affronted a man of science and resentment and I shall here present the public with a faithful narrative of the ungenerous treatment and hard usage I have received from the virulent papers and malicious practices of this pretended astrologer.

:

The 28th of March, A. D. 1708, being the night this sham prophet had so impudently fixed for my last, which made little impression on myself; but I cannot answer for my whole family,

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for my wife, with a concern more than usual, prevailed on me to take somewhat to sweat for a cold, and between the hours of eight and nine, to go to bed. The maid, as she was warming my bed, with a curiosity natural to young wenches, runs to the window, and asks of one passing the street, whom the bell tolled for? Dr. Partridge, says he, the famous almanac-maker, who died suddenly this evening: the poor girl, provoked, told him, he lied like a rascal; the other very sedately replied, the sexton had so informed him, and if false, he was to blame for imposing upon a stranger. She asked a second, and a third, as they passed, and every one was in the same tone. Now, I do not say these are accomplices to a certain astrological 'squire, and that one Bickerstaff might be sauntering thereabouts; because I will assert nothing here but what I dare attest, for plain matter of fact. My wife, at this, fell into a violent disorder; and I must own I was a little discomposed at the oddness of the accident. In the mean time one knocks at my door; Betty runs down, and opening, finds a sober grave person, who modestly inquires, if this was Dr. Partridge's? She taking him for some cautious city patient that came at that time for privacy, shows him into the dining-room. As soon as I could compose myself, I went to him, and was surprised to find my gentleman mounted on a table with a two-foot rule in his hand, measuring my walls, and taking the dimensions of the room, "Pray, sir," says I, "not to interrupt you, have you any business with me?" "Only, sir," replies he, "order the girl to bring me a better light, for this is but very dim one." "Sir," says I, "my name is Partridge." "Oh! the doctor's brother, belike," cries he; "the stair-case, I believe, and these two apartments hung in close mourning, will be sufficient, and only a strip of bays round the other rooms. The doctor must needs die rich, he had great dealings in his way for many years: if he had no family-coat, you had as good use the escutcheons of the company: they are as showish, and will look as magnificent, as if he was descended from the blood-royal." With that I assumed a greater air of authority, and demanded who employed him, or how he came there? 66 Why, I was sent, sir, by the company of undertakers," says he, "and they were employed by the honest gentleman, who is executor to the good doctor departed: and our rascally porter, I believe, is fallen fast asleep with the black cloth and sconces, or he had been here, and we might have been tacking up by this time." Sir," says I, "pray be advised by a friend, and make the best of your speed out of my doors, for 1 hear my wife's voice, (which, by the by, is pretty distinguishable,) and in that corner of the room stands a good cudgel, which some body has felt before now; if that light in her hands, and she know

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the business you come about, without consulting the stars, I can assure you it will be employed very much to the detriment of your person." "Sir," cries he, bowing with great civility, "I perceive extreme grief for the loss of the doctor disorders you a little at present, but early in the morning I will wait on you with all necessary materials." Now I mention no Mr. Bickerstaff; nor do I say that a certain star-gazing 'squire has been playing my executor before his time; but I leave the world to judge, and he that puts things and things fairly together, will not be much wide of the mark.

Well, once more I got my doors closed, and prepared for bed, in hopes of a little repose after so many ruffling adventures; just as I was putting out my light in order to it, another bounces as hard as he can knock; I open the window, and ask who is there, and what he wants? "I am Ned the sexton," replies he, "and come to know whether the doctor left any orders for a funeral sermon, and where he is to be laid, and whether his grave is to be plain or bricked?" "Why, sirrah," says I, "you know me well enough; you know I am not dead, and how dare you affront me after this manner?" 66 Alack-a-day, sir," replies the fellow, "why it is in print, and the whole town knows you are dead; why, there is Mr. White the joiner, is but fitting screws to your coffin, he will be here with it in an instant; he was afraid you would have wanted it before this time." 66 Sirrah, sirrah," says I, "you shall know to-morrow to your cost, that I am alive, and alive like to be." 66 Why, it is strange, sir," says he, “you should make such a secret of your death to us that are your neighbors; it looks as if you had a design to defraud the church of its dues; and let me tell you, for one that has lived so long by the heavens, that is unhandsomely done." "Hist, hist," says another rogue that stood by him; "away, doctor, into your flannel gear as fast as you can, for here is a whole pack of dismals coming to you with their black equipage, and how indecent will it look for you to stand frightening folks at your window, when you should have been in your coffin these three hours?" In short, what with undertakers, embalmers, joiners, sextons, and your vile elegy-hawkers upon a late practitioner in physic and astrology, I got not one wink of sleep that night, nor scarce a moment's rest ever since. Now I doubt not, but this villanous 'squire has the impudence to assert that these are entirely strangers to him; he, good man, knows nothing of the matter, and honest Isaac Bickerstaff, I warrant you, is more a man of honor than to be an accomplice with a pack of rascals, that walk the streets on nights, and disturb good people in their beds; but he is out, if he thinks the whole world is blind; for there is one John

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