THE FIRST OF SEPTEMBER; OR COCKNEY
SPORTSMEN.

he, and let's go on, says he. So avay ve comes, and, | shoot, says I. I don't care if you do, says she. Vhy then they says, there goes two cockneys; so ve left you'll be shot, says I. No danger, says she. Fi 'em; and vhen ve comes to the other side of the vater. going to shoot just vhere you are, says L. Ay, that's No, that can't be; for this is the other-that is, the the wery reason I'm safe, says she. Now, sir, was'nt other side is this-and this is the other, and-No, that's that wery prowoking ?" "Very much so indeed, sa d not it neither let me see-umph-umph!-that's I, but pray why is your dog tied up so?" seeing him wery strange-an't it. You know ve vere on the leading it by his pocket handkerchief, which he had other side, that is, ve-ay, ve vere on this side then- tied round his neck. "Would not you find him of No-that is, the other side vas then on this side, and great use?" "Lord love you, sir, he's a wery good ve vere on the other, and-No, that's not it yet-but dog in his own vay, if you keep him at home, but it don't signify. Ve vere first on the other side, and he's of no use at all out. Whenever he comes to the vhen ve vhere on the other side, ve vere on this and field, he runs about, and barks so that he frightens then ve vere on the ""Ha, ha, ha! was there all the birds-then he stops short just over a whole ever any thing so puzlifying, as not to be able to find flock of them, and they all fly avay before I can get out the other side from this, and this from the other." my gun to my eye; oh! he's of no use at all." B "Vell sir, vhen ve got-ay, no matter; says I to it were in vain to attempt a detail of all his accidents Billy, says I, I'll lay you a tizzy, says I, that I hit and misfortunes, so I'll tell you a part of them in a some'at before ve are long out, says I. So, says song. Billy, says he, done, says he. So I puts my gun up my shoulder, so- and shutting my left eye for fear of the flash. Hold, says Billy, says he. What's the matter, Billy, says I? You have forgot to load her, says he. And sure enough, so I had; so I takes out my powder and shot, and loads her well, biting off a bit of paper you know, and ramming it tight down you know to keep all safe; so I puts up my gun again, Stop, stop, says Billy, says he. What's the matter, says I. You have left your ramrod in your gun, says he. And sure enough I had, and wery lucky it vas that I stopped, for vhen I looked, there vas Benjamin the Jew merchant, parched like a blackbird behind the hedge; poor Ben vas frightened out of his vits, So ve com❜d avay up the side of a the river, till ve comed to a gentleman's house with some trees a-growing aside it. So I sees some'at on a tree, and I thinks it vere a crow; so says I to Billy, says I, dash my buttons if a crow an't fair game, so here goes. Stop, says Billy, says he. Vhy, so, says I? That's the man's poll parrot, says he. I does'nt care, says I; so just as ve vere a speaking, the servant girl comes to the vindow and she's dusting avay, and then she comes and stands before us. Get out of the vay, says I. I shan't, says she. I'm going to

as much as vas.

On the first of September, at five in the morɑ,
Bill Stitch and myself rigged as gay as two larke,
The weather quite cloudy, the prospect forlorn,
For the sports of the field took our way as-but

bark?

friars bridge, there vere ve assailed by a set of reg
Spoken] Just as ve vere a passing along Blut-
muffin rascals, who meant to affront us by calling w
cockneys. There they go, says they, there goes two
What'll they kill, says one! Some tar
rum ones.
mer's grunter, says another. No, that they rust, F13
third, for if Galfer Gammon's grunter vas vabin a
yard of the gun, I'll bet two to one he could rest as

it.

So the sports of the field is a cockney's delight,
On the first of September, all rigg'd out so t
Our pockets with powder and shot too were crani
And sportsman like too, added chicken and ham,
Our dogs round us dane'd-aye, these were thee. að
Towser, Tiger, a buli dog, little Gipsey and Ral

.

Spoken.] My eye, as ve vere crossing a sele, chat should I see but a jackdaw sitting on the back of a rom.

THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER.

Dash my buttons, says I, but that there's a good shot | Should any of your grandsires' ghosts appear drank like scalding Phlegethon; says I, Bill; so I claps my gun to my shoulder, and In your wax-candle circles, and but hear shuts both my eyes, for fear of the flash blinding me. The name of coffee so much call'd upon; Stop, stop, says he, you'll shoot the old cow, says he. Then see No, I vont, says I, for I doesn't see not neither the Would they not startle, think ye, all agreed cow, nor the jackdaw now, as my eyes are both shut; 'Twas conjuration both in word and deed; so I pulls the trigger strong to make the mark sure; Or Catiline's conspirators, as they stood but I doesn't know how it was, poor Tiger was run Sealing their oaths in draughts of blackest blood? ning by at the moment, and I had forgotten to take The merriest ghost of all your sires would say, out my ramrod, and poor Tiger got it stuck in his Your wine's much worse since his last yesterday. O'er tavern-bars into a farrier's shop, gizzard, and there he lay sprawling as dead as a He'd wonder how the club had given a hop Where he'd suppose, both by the smoke and stench, tenpenny nail. Each man a horse, and each horse at his drench.

So the sports of the field is a cockney's delight, Sure you're no poets, nor their friends, for now, On the first of September, when rigg'd out so tight. Should Jonson's strenuous spirit, or the rare Beaumont and Fletcher's in your rounds appear, As he walked along, thinking of nothing at all, Unfortunate Billy shot poor little Ball, They would not find the air perfumed with one Castalian drop, nor dew of Helicon; And I lam'd poor Towser, and home he did run, And left only Gipsey to share in the fun. Spoken.] Vell, I primes and loads again, and in a When they but men would speak as the gods do, hedge I hears a melodious sound, and says Billy, They drank pure nectar as the gods drink too, says he, My eyes there's a blackbird, are you loaded? Sublim'd with rich Canary-say shall then Yes, says s I. Then fire, says he. So I points my These less than coffee's self, the coffee-men; giu again, and shuts both my eyes of course, and lets These sons of nothing, that can hardly make fly. But my eye, vat a mistake I made, for instead Their broth, for laughing how the jest does take ; of the bird I aim'd at, I hit poor Moses the Jew ped-Yet grin, and give ye for the vine's pure blood Moses vas in a ter- A loathsome potion, not yet understood, Sirop of soot, or essence of old shoes, lar, and knock'd off his beard rible fright, and swore as how I had kill'd him. offered Moses a tizzy for his fright, but Mo, with his Dasht with diurnals and the books of news." neck all on one side, told me as how I should make it a bob. I can't, says I, Mister Moses, for I have is very pad inbut one tester left, and that one's bad. Let me she, it, says Moses, ish it pad? Esh, deed, but I will colour him again, and you may continue with

The sports of the field is a cockney's delight,
On the first of September, when rigg'd out so tight.

COFFEE DRINKERS.

For men and Christians to turn Turks, and think
To excuse the crime, because 'tis in their drink!
Pure English apes! ye may, for aught I know,
Would it but mode-learn to eat spiders too.

AN AUTHOR'S EXPECTATIONS FROM CRITICS AND
THE PUBLIC.

The public approbation I expect,

And beg they'll take my word about the moral, Which I with their amusement will connect,

(So children cutting teeth receive a coral); Meantime, they'll doubtless please to recollect My epical pretensions to the laurel :

For fear some prudish readers should grow skittish,
I've bribed my grandmother's review-the British.
I sent it in a letter to the editor,

Who thank'd me duly by return of post-
I'm for a handsome article his creditor;
Yet if my gentle Muse he please to roast,

Whist, the best and finest game of any in the pack. But never mind--there take my hand, and bring the whisky back.

lady I liked better. I beg pardon, is that against us? | fight. I shall fight. Turn him out of doors-any Yes, sur. There, I've taken it with my Jack. That's man mean enough to cheat.-Cheat, sir; why you a knavisk trick of yours, Miss. You have no honour, cheated at I believe, ma'am. You remember, sir, you took it. Bless me! you've a curious hand, Miss. So have all our family, sir, Yes, but they were all good hands at whist. Dear me, what a number of hearts. I have not had one left these ten minutes. Sorry for that, Miss; I was going to solicit. How elegant! 1 wonder what Miss O'Regan's ear-rings are made of-the two of diamonds-No! Yes. Why then

Play away my jewel, this garne you know we've won,
Here bring a drop of whisky, if it's only out of fun.
Come deal more fast, the game that's past
Was played extremely well;
Cards quick sort that's your sport,
Pray, sir, just pull the bell.

The stakes are laid all right, you led the spade
think,

That's mine-play on-the ten of hearts-a little more to drink.

Spoken.] Och beautiful! the river Liffy to a drew-drop that it's ours. I don't think the cards have been shuffled. I beg your pardon. I saw Miss Judy looking at the tricks. Look to your own tricks. Faith, Miss, I've very few, no young man less at present: but if you allow me the odd trick you'll find me game. Odd trick! och faith what a boy was Larry O'Dogherty for the odd trick. I hear he is married. Yes, very happy; loves his wife with a club, they say. She's lately brought to bed. Indeed!-pray Mr. Clancomlarry, what has she got? Faith I was so glad to get away, that I forgot to inquire whether I was an uncle or an aunt. Who turned up the Queen? I think it was-a trump if you please, sir. Come, Miss, play. Your play first, sir, is it not? Oh, no, Miss, you lay down, and I cover. I think I shall have your heart, Miss, now-If you play into my hand, you will, sir. O, damn the cards-horrid bad play;cch! shocking-I must have a new pack. A new pack, sir; not at all. But I shall, sir, because at's not fair-and-Not fair! there's my card, sirand there's my card, sir. Oh! pray gentlemen don't

NEW TITLES.

Good den, sir Richard,—God-a-mercy, fellow ;—
And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter:
For new-made honour doth forget men's names;
'Tis too respective, and too sociable,
For your conversion. Now your traveller,-
He and his tooth-pick at my worship's mess;
And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd
Why then I suck my teeth, and catechise
My picked man of countries.My dear sir,
(Thus, leaning on mine elbow, I begin,)
II shall beseech you―That is question now:
And then comes answer like an ABC-book
O sir, says answer, at your best command;
At your employment; at your service, sir :——
No, sir, says question, I, sweet sir, at yours:
And so, ere answer knows what question would
And talking of the Alps, and Apennines,
(Saving in dialogue of compliment,
It draws toward supper in conclusion so.
The Pyrenean, and the river Po,)
Now this is worshipful society.

THE BLUE STOCKING.

A learned lady, famed
For every branch of every science known-
In every christian language ever named,
With virtues equall'd by her wit alone,
She made the cleverest people quite ashamed,
And even the good with inward envy groan,
Finding themselves so very much exceeded
In their own way by all the things that she did.
Her memory was a mine: she knew by heart
All Calderon and greater part of Lopé,
So that if any actor miss'd his part

She could have serv'd him for the prompter's copy;
For her Feinagle's were an useless art,
And he himself obliged to shut up shop-he

Could never make a memory so fine as
That which adorn'd the brain of Donna Inez.
Her favourite science was the mathematical,

Her noblest virtue was her magnanimity,
Her wit (she sometimes tried at wit) was Attic all,
Her serious sayings darken'd to sublimity;
In short, in all things she was fairly what I call
A prodigy-her morning dress was dimity,
Her evening silk, or, in the summer, muslin,
And other stuffs, with which I won't stay puzzling.
She knew the Latin-that is, "the Lord's prayer,"
And Greek-the alphabet—I'm nearly sure;
She read some French romances here and there,
Although her mode of speaking was not pure;
For native Spanish she had no great care,

At least her conversation was obscure;
Her thoughts were theorems, her words a problem,
Asif she deem'd that mystery would ennoble 'em.
In short, she was a walking calculation,

Miss Edgeworth's novels stepping from their covers,
Or Mrs. Trimmer's books on education,

Or "Celebs' Wife" set out in quest of lovers, Morality's prim personification,

In which not Envy's self a flaw discovers, To others' share let "female errors fall," For she had not even one-the worst of all.

THE ABSENT MAN.

LOVE AND MARRIAGE.

'Tis melancholy, and a fearful sign

Of human frailty, folly, also crime,
That love and marriage rarely can combine,
Although they both are born in the same clime;
Marriage from love, like vinegar from wine-

A sad, sour, sober beverage-by time
Is sharpen'd from its high celestial favour
Down to a very homely household savour.
There's something of antipathy, as 'twere,
Between their present and their future state;
A kind of flattery that's hardly fais

Is used until the truth arrives too late-
Yet what can people do, except despair?

The same things change their names at such a rate
For instance-passion in a lover's glorious,
But in a husband is pronounced uxorious.
Men grow ashamed of being so very fond;
They sometimes also get a little tired,
(But that, of course, is rare,) and then despond:
Yet 'tis "so nominated in the bond,"
The same things cannot always be admired,

Sad thought! to lose the spouse that was adoraung
That both are tied till one shall have expired
Our days, and put one's servants into mourning
There's doubtless something in domestie doings,

Absence of mind may be defined to be a slowness of mind in speaking or action: the absent man is one who, when he is casting up accounts, and hath collected the items, will ask a bystander what the amount is: when he is engaged in a lawsuit, and the day of trial is come, he forgets it and goes into the country: he visits the theatre to see the play, and is left behind asleep on the benches. He takes any article and puts it away himself, then begins to look for it, and is never able to find it. If any one tell him of the death of a dear friend, and ask him to the funeral, with a sorrowful countenance and tears in his eyes, he exclaims, Good luck, good luck! It is his custom, There's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss: when he receives, not when he pays, a debt, to call Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, for witnesses. In winter, he quarrels with his ser-He would have written sonnets all his life 1

Which forms, in fact, true love's antithesis;
Romances paint at full length people's wooings,
But only give a bust of marriages;
For no one cares for matrimonial cooings,