The crows like a knot of lawyers at the funeral of a rich man, were hovering near. They threatened to engross the whole skin, and make away with the personal property by conveyance. The deceased they knew could not resist their charge, nor did they apprehend their bills would be taxed by the master. Alack-alack! that he who had stoutly carried many a bushel, should thus fall beneath their peck. The well worn saddle, like many a better, had gone to back some other favourite of the race. The reins, too, were gone-yes, his disconsolate master, like a drunken man, had-slipped off the curb! Wo, wo! but what avails it crying" Wo!" unto a dead donkey? Were I thy master I would have thy portrait taken. How many an A-double-S is drawn by an R.A.! There is a placid docility about thy head that might supply Gall or Spurzheim with a lecture. But no cast remains to immortalize thee-albeit thy master, in thy life made many an impression with whacks! Like a card-player, thou hast cut the pack, and left it in the hands of the dealer. Unlike thy ragged brethren that run loose upon the common, exposing their ribs (as vulgar husbands do their wives in general company) there is a plumpness and rotundity in thy appearance, that plainly proves thee no common donkey. The smoothness of thy coat, too, shows thine owner's care. He, doubtless, liked thee (as Indians do their food) well curried! Farewell, Edward, I exclaimed-too serious on the occasion to use the familiar epithet of Neddy. I heard footsteps: I saw a man approaching the spot I had just quitted: he was a tall raw-boned-looking gipsey. Concealed from observation by the intervening hedge, I watched his motions. I saw him stride across the animal. Drawing a clasp-knife from his breast, he looked wistfully around him. I had often heard of famished Russians devouring their horses. What did he meditate. Keen hunger was depicted in his sharp countenance. The vagrant wielded his knife-I stood breathless-the next moment I saw him cut a huge stake. "From the donkey?" No, Madam: from the adjoining hedge. THE HAUNCH OF VENISON. AT Number One dwelt Captain Drew, Sung small upon a pension. Tom Blewit knew them both-than he Of culinary knowledge; From Turtle soup to Stilton cheese In Mrs. Rundell's College. Benson to dine invited Tom: A host who spread' so nicely, Tom answer'd, ere the ink was dry, 'Extremely happy-come on Friday next, at six precisely.' Blewit, with expectation fraught, But, ere he reach'd the winning post, Down in the next-door kitchen. Hey. zounds! what's this ? a haunch at Drew's ? I must drop in; I can't refuse; To pass were downright treason: To cut Ned Benson's not quite staunch; But the provocative—a haunch! Zounds! it's the first this season! 'Ven'son, thou'rt mine! I'll talk no more'- Is paralytic, quite aslant, I must be off for Surrey.' Now Tom at next door makes a din 'Is Captain Drew at home?'-' Walk in.'— To drop in, in a quiet way, So now I'm come to do it.' 'I'm very glad you have,' said Drew, 'I've nothing but an Irish stew' Quoth Tom, aside, No matter, 'Twon't do-my stomach's up to that,"Twill lie by, till the lucid fat Comes quiv'ring on the platter.' 'You see your dinner, Tom,' Drew cried, 'No, but I don't though,' Tom replied: 'I smok'd below'- What?'- VensonA haunch.'-Oh! true, it is not mine; My neighbour had some friends to dine.'"Your neighbour! who? George Benson, His chimney smoked; the scene to change, While his was newly polish'd: Tom, why that look of doubtful dread? Don't sit with hands and knees up; But dine, for once, off Irish stew, And read the Dog and Shadow' through, GINEVRA. If ever you should come to Modena, Enter the house,-forget it not, I pray you,-- "Tis of a lady in her earliest youth, The last of that illustrious family. She sits, inclining forward as to speak; Her lips half-open, and her finger up, As though she said, 'Beware!'-her vest of gold, Broider'd with flowers, and clasp'd from head to foot, An emerald stone in every golden clasp; And on her brow, fairer than alabaster, A coronet of pearls.Alone it hangs (That, by the way-it may be true or false) She was an only child-her name Ginevra ; Her pranks the favourite theme of every tongue : Her hand, and her heart with it, to Francesco. Great was the joy; but at the nuptial feast, When all sat down, the bride herself was wanting; Nor was she to be found! Her father cried, "Tis but to make trial of our love," And fill'd his glass to all; but his hand shook; Weary of his life, Full fifty years were past, and all forgottenWhen on an idle day, a day of search 'Mid the old lumber in the gallery, That mouldering chest was noticed; and 'twas said By one as young, as thoughtless as Ginevra, 66 Why not remove it from its lurking place?" 'Twas done as soon as said; but, on the way, It burst-it fell;-and lo, a skeleton! With here and there a pearl, an emerald stone, Engraven with a name, the name of both- There, then, had she found a grave! THE BARBER'S SHOP. I'm a dapper little shaver, Spoken.] Mr. Razor, says my poor deceased mother; My duck, says my father. Vy, lovy, I've been thinking as how ve should send Tony to a larned seminary, for I likes Latin-A little larning is a dangerous thing-drink deep, or a fig for larning, says my father; or if he larns any thing, let him larn to shave, and as to drinking deep, he'll larn that of his father. So instead of being a man of letters, I can barely tell them, and am left with all my imperfections on my head, to shave, dress hair, comb wigs, and retail Day and Martin's blacking, Russia oil, pomatum, and powder, and instead of wearing a counsellor's wig, to be constantly employed in keeping it in curl, while the only bar I ever pleaded at is the bar of old Score'em, though I generally contrive to pay my way; I wish every tradesman could put his hand to his heart and say as much—we should then see fewer dividends of a shilling in the pound, and the credit of old England keep up its ancient vigour. So, with scissors, comb, and lather I a sufficient harvest gather, To keep open the barber's shop, The barber's shop, The barber's shop, To keep open the barber's shop. |