THE ELDER BROTHER,
Centric in London noise, and London follies,
Proud Covent-garden blooms in smoky glory;
For chairmen, coffee-rooms, piazzas, dollies,
Cabbages, and comedians, fam'd in story!
On this gay spot (upon a sober plan)

Dwelt a right regular, and staid, young man :
Much did he early hours, and quiet, love;
And was entitled, Mr. Isaac Shove.
An orphan he : yet rich in expectations,
Which nobody seem'd likely to supplant-
From that prodigious bore of all relations,

A fusty, canting, stiff-rump'd, maiden aunt ;
The wealthy Miss Lucretia Cloghorty,
Who had brought Isaac up, and own'd to forty!
Shove, on this maiden's will relied securely;
Who vow'd she ne'er would wed, to mar his riches;
Full often would she say, of man, demurely-
"I can't abide the filthy things in breeches!"
He had apartments up two pair of stairs ;
On the first floor lodged Dr. Crow;
The landlord was a torturer of hairs,

And made a grand display of wigs, below,
From the beau's Brutus, to the parson's frizzle-
Over the door-way was his name; 'twas Twizzle.
Now, you must know,
This Dr. Crow

Was not of law, nor music, nor divinity;
He was obstetric; but, the fact is,
He didn't in Lucina's turnpike practise;
He took by-roads-reducing ladies' shapes,
Who had secur'd themselves from "

apes,"

But kept the reputation of virginity.
Crow had a roomy tenement of brick,

leading

Inclos'd with walls, one mile from Hyde Park
Corner:

Fir trees and yews were planted round it thick ;
No situation was forlorner!
Yet notwithstanding folks might scout it,
It suited qualmish spinsters, who fell sick,
And did not wish the world to know about it.

Here many a single gentlewoman came,
Pro tempore-full tender of her fame!
Who, for a while, took leave of friends in town-
"Business, forsooth, to Yorkshire call'd her down,
Too weighty to be settled by attorney!"

And, in a month or six weeks' time came back:
When ev'ry body cried-"Good lack!
How monstrous thin you've grown, upon your jour-
ney!"

The Doctor, knowing that a puff of scandal
Would blow his private trade to tatters,
Dreaded to give the smallest handle

To those who dabble in their neighbours' matters:
Therfore he wisely held it good,

To hide his practice from the neighbourhood-
And not appear there as a resident,
But merely one who casually went

To see the ladies in the large brick-house-
To lounge and chat-not minding time a souse--
Like one to whom all business was quite foreign:
And thus, he visited his female sick;
Who lay as thick,

Within his tenement of brick,

As rabbits in a warren.

He lodged in Covent Garden all the while:
And, if they sent in haste for his assistance,
He soon was with them-'twas no mighty distance-
From the town's end, it was but bare a mile.

Now, Isaac Shove,

Living above

This Dr. Crow,

And knowing barber Twizzle liv'd below,
Thought it might be as well-

Hearing so many knocks, single and double

To buy, at his own cost, a street door bell,
And save confusion in the house, and trouble!
Whereby his (Isaac's) visitors might know,

Without long waiting in the dirt and drizzle,
To ring for him at once, and not to knock for Crow, or
Twizzle.

Besides, he now began to feel,

The want of it was rather ungenteel;

Twisting and twining.

The jemmy handle Twizzle's door-post grac'd:
And, just beneath, a brazen plate was plac'd,
Lacquer'd, and shining-

Graven whereon, in characters full clear,
And legible, did "Mr. Shove" appear;
And furthermore, which you might read right well,
Was-"Please to ring the bell.”

At half past ten, precisely, to a second,
Shove, every night, his supper ended;
And sipp'd his glass of negus till he reckon'd,

By his stop-watch, exactly one more quarter:
Then, as exactly, he untied one garter;
A token 'twas, that he for bed intended.
Yet, having still a quarter good before him,
He leisurely undress'd before the fire:
Contriving, as the quarter did expire,
To be as naked as his mother bore him-
Bating his shirt, and nightcap on his head.
Then as the watchman bawl'd eleven,
He had one foot in bed;

More certainly than cuckolds go to heav'n.
Alas! what pity 'tis, that regularity,
Like Isaac Shove's is such a rarity!
But there are swilling wights in London town,
Term'd Jolly Dogs-Choice Spirits-alias, Swine;
Who pour, in midnight revel, bumpers down,

Making their throats a thoroughfare for wine.
These spendthrifts, who life's pleasure thus outrun-
Dozing with head-aches till the afternoon-
Lose half men's regular estate of sun,

By borrowing too largely of the moon.
One of this kidney-Toby Tosspot hight-
Was coming from the Bedford, late at night:

At length with near four bottles in his pate,
He saw the 1000n shining on Shove's brass plate-
When reading "Please to ring the bell;"

And being civil, beyond measure-
"Ring it!" says Toby-" very well!
I'll ring it with a deal of pleasure."
Toby, the kindest soul in all the town,
Gave it a jerk-that almost jerk'd it down.
He waited full two minutes, no one came :

He waited full two minutes more; and then,
Says Toby-" If he's deaf, I'm not to blame,
I'll pull it for the gentleman again."

But the first peal woke Isaac, in a fright;

Who, quick as lightning popping up his head,
Sat on his head's antipodes, in bed-

Pale as a parsnip-bolt upright.
At length, he wisely, to himself did say—
Calming his fears-

"Tush! 'tis some fool has rung, and ran away,"
When peal the second rattled in his ears.

Shove jump'd into the middle of the floor,

And trembling, at each breath of air that stirr'd,
He grop'd down stairs, and open'd the street door,
While Toby was performing peal the third ?
Isaac eyed Toby fearfully askaunt,

Then put this question-"Pray, Sir, what do ye want?
And saw he was a strapper-stout and tall:
Says Toby "I want nothing, Sir, at all."
"Want nothing, Sir?-you've pull'd my bell, I vow,
As if you'd jerk it off the wire!"
Quoth Toby-gravely making him a bow-
"I pull'd it, Sir, at your desire."

"At mine ?"—"Yes, yours I hope I've done it | Concluding Shove to be the person sent,

ROYAL MODESTY.

King Charles II. once asked Stillingfleet, why he always read his sermons before him, when he always preached without book elsewhere. He told the king, the sight of so great and wise a prince, made him afraid to trust himself: with which answer the king was very well contented. "But pray," says Stilling fleet, will your majesty give the leave to ask you a question too? Why do you read your speeches to the parliament, when you have none of the same reasons?"—"Why truly, doctor," said the king, 'your question is a very pertinent one, and so will be my answer. I have asked them so often, and for so

much, that I am ashamed to look them in the face."

REQUISITES FOR AN EPIGRAM.

One day in Chelsea meadows walking,
Of poetry and such things talking,
Says Ralph, a merry wag,
"An epigram, if smart and good,
In all its circumstances shou'd
Be like a jelly bag."

"Your simile, I own, is new,

But how wilt make it out?" says Hugh:
Quoth Ralph, "I'll tell thee, friend;

Make it at top both wide and fit

To hold a budget full of wit,

And point it at the end."

MISTAKEN RESPECT.

To-day he's honour'd and in vast esteem,
To-day he rises from the velvet bed,
To-morrow not a beggar values him:
To-morrow lies on one that's made of lead:
To-day his house, tho' large, he thinks but small,
To-morrow no command, no house at all:
To-day has forty servants at his gate,
To-morrow scorn'd, not one of them will wait :
To-morrow stinks in ev'ry body's nose.
To-day perfum'd as sweet as any rose,
To-day he's grand, majestic, all delight,
True, as the scripture says, "man's life's a span;"
Ghastful and pale before to-morrow night:
The present moment is the life of man!

MISS FARREN.

The wife of the manager of a little strolling company, who was both old and ugly, had once a violent dispute with Lady Derby, then Miss Farren; the theatrical queen, being extremely irritated at some remark of Thalia's favourite, exclaimed in her passion, "You are a very pretty young lady indeed!" -"And you are neither one nor the other," replied her ladyship.

THE VICAR OF BRAY'S CREED.

I love with all my heart
The Hanoverian part-
And for their settlement
My conscience gives consent,
Most righteous is the cause
To fight for George's laws,
This is my mind and heart

The Tory party here
Most hateful doth appear,

I ever have denied

To be on James's side.
To be for such a king
Will Britons ruin bring,
In this opinion I

A PHYSICIAN'S PRACTICE.

A lord mayor, waiting upon King Charles the Tho' none should take my part. Resolve to live and die. Second, while in the park feeding the ducks, with his hat in his hand, the mayor desired he might not speak till his majesty was covered:-" Phoo, phoo!" says the king; 66 you may go on very safely, 'tis to the ducks I pull my hat off."

TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW.

To-day man's drest in gold and silver bright,
'Wrapp'd in a shroud before to-morrow night
To-day he's feeding on delicious food,
To-morrow dead, unable to do good:

To-day he's nice, and scorns to feed on crumbs
To-morrow he's himself a dish for worms:

R

Ludgate-Hill, a regular bred physician passed, who As a quack practitioner was standing at his door on had learning and abilities, but not the success in his practice which he deserved. "How comes it," says he to the quack, "that you, without education, skill, or the least knowledge of the science, are enabled to live in the style you do? You keep your town-house, your carriage, and your country-house; whilst I, al lowed to possess some knowledge, have neither, and can scarcely pick up a subsistence."-"Why, look you," said the quack, "how many people do you