THE HUMOUROUS REFUSAL; OR, SUNDRY
NOVEL OBJECTIONS AGAINST GOING.
TO SEA.

Of a vein most facetious and quaint was Dick
Swill,

But the joys of the bottle his thoughts aye did fill;

One day to his sire, who made a great fuss

In begging to sea he would go, Dick spoke thus: "Dear father, no further insist on this matterOds heart! the trite subject is worn to a tatter; But yet, ere in toto we wisely dismiss it, Just hear me expound my refusal explicit:Your son well-advised from such dangers would keep

He's a vast deal too deep, sir, to tempt the vast deep;

Nor into the hazard of drowning e'er pod he,
Unless in epitome, drowning-by dropsy

The ocean, oh shun! would I say to my soul,
Or be thy main sport but a brimming punch-bowl.
Then, sir, living at sea would be scarcely to me
life,

Who like to see life, though I like not a sea life.
Obeying, I quickly most wretched should be,
And besides being sea-sick, quite sick of the sea.
What vessels care I for, save vessels of wine?
What anchors, save anchors of brandy divine?
Say, how can I harbour a thought about Port,
Save that which creates the gay Bacchanal's
sport?

Besides, who could ever regard as a treat That compound of leather and brine, their salt meat?

"Twere not fair to expect with such fare life to drag on;

No-give me a flagon-I'll ne'er think a flag on. Then, bang it! that word of such ominous scope, Rope's-end-which suggests the sad end by a rope.

But should some grand booty (like Colchis' rich fleece)

Reward my sea perils, thro' Fate's kind caprice,

A company of itinerant actors once attempti to gratify the inhabitants of a country town their united efforts; one of our best tragedies selected for the night's amusement. In the four act of the tragedy, the Duke, sitting in judgmen ordered the culprit into court, in these words

"Bring the vile offender straight before us." The messenger, who was a wag, stepped forwa and exclaimed in the superlative, - It's imp sible, your grace, to bring him straight be you, for he is one of the bandyest legged felle you ever saw in all your life;" which occasio such a universal roar, that a considerable t elapsed before the comical tragedy could be ceeded with.

ON A POSTILION.
Here I lays,
Killed by a chaise.

BED.

Bed is a bundle of paradoxes; we go to it reluctance, yet we quit it with regret ; and make up our minds every night to leave it e but we make up our bodies every morning to it late.

Billy Taylor was a brisk young feller,
Full of mirth, and full of glee,
And his mind he did diskiver
To a lady fair and free.

Four and twenty brisk young fellers,
Drest they vas in rich array,
They kim and they seized Billy Taylor,
Pressed he vas, and sent to sea.
His true-love she followed arter,
Under the name of Richard Car,
And her hands were all bedaubed
With the nasty pitch and tar.

An engagement came on the very next morning;
Bold she fit among the rest;
The wind aside did blow her jacket,

And diskivered her lily-white breast.
When the captain kim for to know it,

He says vat vind has blown you to me? Kind sir; I be kim for to seek my true-love, Vhom you pressed and sent to sea. If you be kim to seek your true-love He from the ship is gone away,

And you'll find him in London streets, ma'am,
Valking with his lady gay.

She rose up early in the morning,
Long before the break of day:
And she found false Billy Taylor,
Valking with his lady gay.

raight she called for swords and pistils,
Brought they vas at her command,
e fell on shooting Billy Taylor,
Vith his lady in his hand.

When the captain he kim for to know it,
He very much applauded her for what she
had done,

Bad he made her first lieutenant,
Of the valiant Thunder bomb.

THE DEVIL outwitted.

he Beehive of the Romish church, 1580, black er, contains the following story-There was a

lively holy monke, which was continually tempted and troubled with a deuill, euen tyll his olde days; and when, in the eude, hee began to waxe weery of it, hee then did pray the deuil), very friendly, that hee wonlde let him alone in quiet; whereupon the deuill did answere him, that so farre as he woulde promise to doe, and sweare to keepe secrete a thing that 'hee woulde commande him, then he woulde leaue off to trouble him any more. The monke did promyse him, and tooke thereupon a deepe othe. Then sayde the deuill; "If thou wilt that I shall trouble thee no more, then thou must not pray any more to that image ;" and it was an image of our ladie, holding her childe in armes. But the monke was more craftie than the

deuill; for he went and confessed him of it, the next daye, to the abbot, and the abbot did dispence with him for his othe, upon condition that hee should continue his praying to the image.

ON A PARISH PARSON.

Come, let us rejoice, merry boys, at his fall,
For, egad, had he lived, he'd have buried us all.
VIOLATION OF THE SABBATH,

In the time of Marlow, the celebrated patriot, fanaticism ran so high, that an order was issued by the Privy Council that no beer should be' brewed on a Saturday. This very singular order being the subject of conversation, King James the Second asked Marlow, during the period he was composing his celebrated" Jew of Malta," what his opinion was of the subject, “May it please your Majesty," replied Marlow, " you may de pend upon it, the reason why they will not suffer any beer to be brewed upon a Saturday, is, for fear it should work on a Sunday.

DEFINITION OF THE WORD NEWS. 1 The word explains itself, without the Muse, And the four letters speak from whence comes news,

THE

From north, east, west, south, the solution's made, Each quarter gives accounts of war and trade,

REASONS FOR HANGING A WEAVER

A blacksmith of a village murdered a man, and was condemned to be hang'd. The chief peasants of the place joined together, and begged the alcade that the blacksmith might not suffer, because he was necessary to the place, which could not do without a blacksmith, to shoe horses, mend wheels, &c. But the alcade said, "How, then, can I fulfil justice ?" A labourer answered, "Sir, there are two weavers in the village, and for so small a place, one is enough; hang the other."

Copy of an Order sent by a Farmer's Wife, to a Tradesman in Town, for a Scarlet Cardinal. Sir, If you please to send me a scarlet cardinal, let it be full yard long, and let it be full, it is for a large woman; they tell me I may have a large one and a handsome one for eleven shillings, I should not be willing to give more than twelve; but if you have any as long either duffel or cloth. if it comes cheaper I should like to have it, for 1 am not to give more than twelve shillings; I beg you, sir, to be so good as not to fail sending me this cardinal on Wednesday without fail, let it be full yard long, I beg, or else it will not do, fail not on Wednesday, and by so doing you will oblige, Your humble servant, M. W.

P.S. I hope you will charge your lowest price, and if you please not to send me a duffel one, but cloth, full yard long and full, and please to send it to Mr. Field's the waterman, who comes to the Beehive, at Queenhithe; pray don't send me a duffel one, but cloth; I have altered my mind, I should not like it duffel, but cloth; let it be full yard long, and let it be cloth, for I don't like duffel; it must not be more than twelve shillings at most, one of the cheapest you have and full yard long; send two, both of a length, and both large ones full yard long; both of a price, they be bo woman, they must be exactly alike rice, fail then not on Wednes

THE FRIARS OF DIJON. A TALE.
When honest men confess'd their sios,
And paid the church genteely-
In Burgundy two Capuching
Lived jovially and freely.
They march'd about from place to place,
With shrift and dispensation;
And mended broken consciences,
Soul-tinkers by vocation.

One friar was Father Boniface,
And he ne'er knew disquiet,
Save when condemn'd to saying grace
O'er mortifying diet.

The other was lean Dominick,

Whose slender form and sallow, Would scarce have made a candlewick For Boniface's tallow.

Albeit, he tippled like a fish,

Though not the same potation;
And mortal man ne'er clear'd a dish
With nimbler mastication.

Those saints without the shirts arrived,
One evening late, to pigeon

A country pair for alms, that lived
About a league from Dijon-
Whose supper pot was set to boil,

On faggots briskly crackling;
The friars enter'd, with a smile,

To Jacquez and to Jacqueline They bow'd, and bless'd the dame, and th In pious terms besought her, To give two holy-minded men

A meal of bread and water. For water and a crust they crave,

Those mouths that even on Lent days, Scarce knew the taste of water, save When watering for dainties.

Quoth Jacquez, "That were sorry cheer
For men fatigued and dusty;
And if ye supp'd on crusts, I fear
You'd go to bed but crusty."

So forth he brought a flask of rich
Wine fit to feast Silenus,
And viands, at the sight of which
They laugh'd like two hyænas.

Alternately the host and spouse
Regaled each pardon-gauger,
Who told them tales right marvellous,
And lied as for a wager--

'Bout churches like balloons convey'd

With aeronautic martyrs ;

And wells made warm, where holy maid
Had only dipt her garters,
And if their hearers gaped, I guess
With jaws three inch asunder,
'Twas part out of weariness,
And partly out of wonder.

Then striking up duets, the Freres
Went on to sing in matches,
From psaims to sentimental airs,
From these to glees and catches.
At last they would have danced outright,
Like a baboon and tame bear,
If Jacquez had not drunk Good night,
And shewn them to their chamber.
The room was high, the host's was nigh
Had wife or he suspicion,

That monks would make a rarce-show
Of chinks in the partition?—

Or that two confessors would come
Their holy ears out-reaching,
To conversations as hum-drum
Almost as their own preaching?
Shame on you Friars of orders gray,
That peeping knelt, and wriggling,
And when ye should have gone to pray,
Betook yourselves to giggling!

at every deed will have its meed:
And bark! what information
Has made the sinners, in a trice,
Look black with consternation.

The farmer on a hone prepares,

His knife, a long and keen one;
And talks of killing both the Freres,
The fat one and the lean one,
To-morrow, by the break of day,
He orders too, salt-petre,
And pickling tubs; but, reader, stay,
Our host was no man-eater.

The priests knew not that country-folk
Gave pigs the name of friars;
But startled, witless of the joke,
As if they'd trod on briars.

Meanwhile, as they perspired with dread,
The hair of either craven

Had stood erect upon his head,

But that their heads were shaven.

What, pickle and smoke us limb by limb!
God curse him and his larders!
St. Peter will bedevil him,
If he salt-petres Friars.

Yet, Dominick, to die!-the bare
Idea shakes one oddly ;-

Yes, Boniface, 'tis time we were
Beginning to be godly.

Would that for absolution's sake
Of all our sins and cogging,
We had a whip to give and take
A last kind mutual flogging.

O Dominick, thy nether end
Should bleed for expiation,

And thou shouldst have my dear fat friend,
A glorious flagellation.

But having ne'er a switch, poor souls,

They bow'd like weeping willows, And told the Saints long rigmaroles Of all their peccadillos.

Yet midst this penitential plight

A thought their fancies tickled, 'Twere better brave the window's height Than be at morning pickled.

REASONS FOR HANGING A WEAVER

A blacksmith of a village murdered a man, and was condemned to be hang'd. The chief peasants of the place joined together, and begged the alcade that the blacksmith might not suffer, because he was necessary to the place, which could not do without a blacksmith, to sboe horses, mend wheels, &c. But the alcade said, "How, then, can I fulfil justice?" Alabourer answered, “Sir, there are two weavers in the village, and for so small a place, one is enough; hang the other."

BOTHERATION,

Copy of an Order sent by a Farmer's Wife, to a Tradesman in Town, for a Scarlet Cardinal. Sir, If you please to send me a scarlet cardinal, let it be full yard long, and let it be full, it is for a large woman; they tell me I may have a large one and a handsome one for eleven shillings, I should not be willing to give more than twelve; but if you have any as long either duffel or cloth, if it comes cheaper I should like to have it, for 1 am not to give more than twelve shillings; I beg you, sir. to be so good as not to fail sending me this cardinal on Wednesday without fail, let it be full yard long, I beg, or else it will not do, fail not on Wednesday, and by so doing you will oblige, Your humble servant, M. W.

P.S. I hope you will charge your lowest price, and if you please not to send me a duffel one, but cloth, full yard long and full, and please to send it to Mr. Field's the waterman, who comes to the Beehive, at Queenhithe; pray don't send me a duffel one, but cloth; I have altered my mind, I should not like it duffel, but cloth; let it be full yard long, and let it be cloth, for I don't like duffel; it must not be more than twelve shillings at most, one of the cheapest you have and full yard long; send two, both of a length, and both large ones full yard long; both of a price, they be both for one woman, they must be exactly alike for goodness and price, fail then not on Wednesay, and full yard long.

THE FRIARS OF DIJON.—A TALE.
When honest men confess'd their sins,
And paid the church genteely-
In Burgundy two Capuchins
Lived jovially and freely.
They march'd about from place to place,
With shrift and dispensation;
And mended broken consciences,
Soul-tinkers by vocation.

One friar was Father Boniface,
And he ne'er knew disquiet,
Save when condemn'd to saying grace
O'er mortifying diet.

The other was lean Dominick,

Whose slender form and sallow, ́ Would scarce have made a candlewick For Boniface's tallow.

Albeit, he tippled like a fish,

Though not the same potation;
And mortal man ne'er clear'd a dish
With nimbler mastication.

Those saints without the shirts arrived,
One evening late, to pigeon
A country pair for alms, that lived
About a league from Dijon-
Whose supper pot was set to boil,
On faggots briskly crackling i
The friars enter'd, with a smile,

To Jacquez and to Jacqueline
They bow'd, and bless'd the dame, and to
In pious terms besought her,
To give two holy-minded men

A meal of bread and water.
For water and a crust they crave.

Those mouths that even on Lent days,
Scarce knew the taste of water, save

When watering for dainties.

Quoth Jacquez, “That were sorry cheer
For men fatigued and dusty;
And if ye supp'd on crusts, I fear
You'd go to bed but crusty.”