For thus he sung; while Cupid smil'd-
Pleas'd that the gard'ner own'd his dart,
Which prun'd his passions running wild,
And grafted true-love on his heart.
Maid of the moor! his love return!

True love ne'er tints the cheek with shame :
When gard'ners' hearts, like hot-beds, burn,
A cook may surely feed the flame.
Ah! not averse from love was she,

Though pure as heaven's own snowy flake; Both lov'd: and though a gard'ner he,

He knew not what it was to rake.
Cold blows the blast-the night's obscure;
The mansion's crazy wainscots crack;
No star appear'd,-and all the moor,
Like ev'ry other moor,-was black.
Alone, pale, trembling, near the fire,
The lovely Molly Dumpling sat :
Much did she fear, and much admire

What Thomas Gard'ner could be at.
List'ning, her hand supports her chin;
But, ah! no foot is heard to stir :
He comes not, from the garden, in;

Nor he, nor little bob-tail cur.

They cannot come, sweet maid, to thee;
Flesh, both of cur and man, is grass!
And what's impossible can't be ;

And never, never comes to pass!
She paces through the hall antique,

To call her Thomas from his toil; Opes the huge door; the hinges creakBecause-the hinges wanted oil. Thrice, on the threshold of the hall,

She" Thomas!" cried, with many a sob;
And thrice on Bob-tail did she call,
Exclaiming sweetly "Bob! Bob! Bob!"
Vain maid! a gard'ner's corpse, 'tis said,
In answers can but ill succeed;

And dogs that hear when they are dead,
Are very cunning dogs indeed!

Back through the hall she bent her way;
All, all was solitude around!
The candle shed a feeble ray,

Though a large mould of four to th' pound.
Full closely to the fire she drew;
Adown her cheek a salt tear stole ;
When, lo! a coffin out there flew,
And in her apron burnt a hole!
Spiders their busy death-watch tick'd
A certain sign that fate will frown;
The clumsy kitchen clock, too, click❜d,
A certain sign it was not down.

More strong and strong her terrors rose:
Her shadow did the maid appal;
She trembled at her lovely nose,

It look'd so long against the wall.
Up to her chamber damp and cold,
She climb'd lord Hoppergollop's stair:
Three stories high-long, dull, and old,
As great lords' stories often are.
All nature now appear'd to pause;

And "o'er one half the world seem'd dead;"
No" curtain'd sleep" had she-because
She had no curtains to her bed.

List'ning she lay ;-with iron din

The clock struck twelve; the door flew wide; When Thomas grimly glided in,

With little Bob-tail by his side.

Tall, like the poplar, was his size;

Green, green his waiscoat was, as leeks;
Red, red as beet-root were his eyes;
Pale, pale, as turnips were his cheeks!

Soon as the spectre she espied,

The fear-struck damsel faintly said, "What would my Thomas?" he replied, "Oh! Molly Dumpling! I am dead. "All in the flower of youth I fell,

Cut off with health's full blossom crown'd;

I was not ill-but in a well

I tumbled backwards, and was drown'd.

"Four fathom deep thy love doth lie ;`
His faithful dog his fate doth share;
We're fiends-this is not he and I;

We are not here,-for we are there.
"Yes; two foul water-fiends are we;
Maid of the moor, attend us now!
Thy hour's at hand-we come for thee!"
The little fiend-cur said, "bow, wow!"
"To wind her in her cold, cold grave,
A Holland sheet a maiden likes;
A sheet of water thou shalt have;

Such sheets there are in Holland dykes."
The fiends approach; the maid did shrink;
Swift through the night's foul air they spin;
They took her to the green well's brink,
And, with a souse, they plump'd her in.
So true the fair, so true the youth,
Maids, to this day, their story tell:
And hence the proverb rose,
that Truth
Lies in the bottom of a well.

COLMAN.

THE HOLY TAILOR AND DEAN SWIFT.

A tailor, grown tired of his shop-board, took a bold spring from his seat to the pulpit, and soon acquired great popularity. Elated with the success, he attempted the conversion of Dean Swift to the true faith. On being admitted to the dean, he thus announced his purpose: "I am come," said he, " by order of the Lord, to open your eyes, to enlighten your darkness, and to teach you the proper application of talents which you have so long abused.' Indeed, my good friend," replied the dean, who knew the taylor, "I am inclined to believe that you are com

very

missioned by Heaven, as you come so critically to relieve the perplexed state of my mind at this instant." The tailor already exulted in the certainty of success. "You are well acquainted, no doubt," continued Swift," with that passage in the tenth chapter of the Revelation of St. John, where he describes a mighty angel coming down from heaven, with a rainbow on his head, a book open in his hand, and setting his right foot on the sea, and his left foot on the earth. I am quite at a loss how to

With Scythians expert in darts and bows-
A satire next, and then a bill of fare.
Starting and shiv'ring in th' inconstant wind→
The weary world lies sunk in soft repose-
And shuts the gates of mercy on mankind-
And sometimes gallops o'er a courtier's nose.
The sun himself with gloomy clouds opprest-
Renounces four legs, and starts up on two-
'Twas then his threshold first receiv'd a guest-
Who stays on shore, and toys with Sall and Sue.
Each feather'd warbler tunes his various lay-
Transform'd to combs the speckled and the white-
Long as the night to her whose love's away-

On spacious wings with sundry colours dight.
Like some fair flow'r the early spring supplies→
Satan himself will toll the parish bell-
Where in a box the whole creation lies--

By much too wise to walk into a well.
So have I seen on some bright summer's day➡
The vulgar boil, the learned roast an egg-
Where rougher climes a nobler race display-
A dedication is-a wooden leg,

When Lord Chief Justice Holt presided in the t of King's Bench, a poor decrepit old creature brought before him, charged as a criminal, on the full severity of the law ought to be visited exemplary effect. The charges were opened. What is her crime?" asked his Lordship. "Witch"How is it proved?"-" She has a powerspell."-"Let me see it."-The spell was handed he bench; it appeared a small ball of variouslyured rags of silk, bound with threads of as many ferent hues; these were unwound and unfolded, there appeared a scrap of parchment, on which re written certain characters now nearly illegible a much use. "Is this the spell ?"-The prosears answered it was. The judge, after looking his patent charm a few moments, addressed himto the terrified prisoner. Prisoner, how came by this ""A young gentleman, my Lord,.gave me, to cure my child's ague."" How long

"Thirty years, my Lord."-"And did it cure "Oh yes, and many others."-"I am glad The judge paused a few moments, and then dressed himself to the jury. Gentlemen of the 7 thirty years ago, I and some companions, as ghtless as myself, went to this woman's dwellthen a public house, and after enjoying ourselves

found we had no means to discharge the reckoning. I had recourse to a stratagem. Observing a child ill of an ague, I pretended I had a spell to cure her. I wrote the classic line you see on a scrap of parchment, and was discharged of the demand on me by the gratitude of the poor woman before us, for the supposed benefit."

EPITAPH ON A LAWYER.

Here lies a lawyer,-one whose mind(Like that of all the lawyer-kind) Resembled, though so grave and stately, The pupil of a cat's eye greatly,Which for the mousing deeds transacted

In holes and corners, is well fitted, But which in sunshine, grows contracted, As if 'twould,-rather not admit it,― As if in short, a man would quite

Throw time away who tried to let in a Decent portion of God's light

On lawyer's mind or pussy's retina. Hence when he took to politics,

As a refreshing change of evil, Unfit with grand affairs to mix, His little nisi prius tricks,

Like imps at bo-peep, play'd the devil; And proved that when a small law wit, Of statesmanship attempts the trial, "Tis like a player on the kit,

Put all at once to a bass viol. Nay, even when honest, (which he could Be, now and then,) still quibbling daily, He served his country as he would

A client thief at the Old Bailey. But,-do him justice,-short and rare

His wish through honest paths to roam; Born with a taste for the unfair, Where falsehood call'd he still was there,

And when least honest most at home. Thus shuffling, bullying, lying, creeping, He work'd his way up near the throne, And long before he took the keeping

Of the king's conscience, lost his own.

MOORE.

MUNCHAUSEN OUTDONE.

Several gentlemen, of ingenious invention, or extraordinary credulity, having amused a company by a successive detail of wondrous events, a shipmaster observed, "Gentlemen, these narratives which you have given are doubtless strange and unaccountable, but I can tell you a circumstance which occurred to myself, not less true, and still more incredible. Last year, coming home from the West Indies, and being on the banks of Newfoundland, my people hooked an immense shark. The monster made such resistance as they were hauling him up, that I was afraid he might break the rope and escape. I ran down to the cabin and fetched my pistols, which, for security's sake, I always keep loaded. As they had got his head to the surface of the water, I levelled a pistol to fire at him; but, just as I was going to pull the trigger, in a too eager anxiety, the pistol dropped from my hand, and, about the same moment, the shark, making a violent effort, broke the line and escaped. Well, gentlemen, being nearly on the same spot on my last homeward voyage, the crew again hooked a shark, which after much exertion, they were fortunate enough to get on board, and as, after cutting off the tail, (which you know, gentlemen, is the most powerful part of this fish) they were ripping up the belly, I was surprised to hear what appeared like the report of a pistol; but, judge my astonishment, when I found that this was the identical shark hooked on my former voyage; that my pistol had fallen into its mouth, and, from its voracity, been swallowed into its stomach, that it had there remained dormant, till the operation of cutting it up had, probably by contact of the chopper and the flint, made the piece go

off!"

A Barber in a borough-town, it seems,
Had voted for Sir John, against Sir James.
Sir James, in angry mood, took Suds aside-
Don't you remember shaving me ? he cry'd ;
Five pieces for five minutes work I gave;
And does not one good turn another crave?
Yea, quoth the barber, and his fingers smack'd,
grant the doctrine, and admit the fact:
Sir John, on the same score, paid the same price;
But took two shavings-and of course paid twice.

I

EXQUISITIVE SENSIBILITY

Two men of fashion meeting a beautiful lady in narrow way in Glasgow, her ear was taken by th following observations-"I protest, Bobby, this plat is as narrow as Balaam's passage”—(a lane in Glas gow)" Yes, (said his companion) and, like Ba laam, I am stopped by an angel."-"And 1 (retorte the lady) by the ass."