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One pound,' replied the jeweller, 'tis not enough,
One pound one or two, pray make it ;'
But finding Yorkshire was not inclined to give
One shilling more, he cried well, take it!'

Take the watch!' exclaim'd he with delight,
'By gum a friend you are indeed!'

So without losing time-he left the shop,

And bolted with the watch at furious speed.

'Stop thief! stop thief!' the jeweller loudly bawled,
Who kept the chase up at a furious rate-

Until they grabbed the Yorkshire wit,

Who soon was taken 'fore a magistrate.

'Well,' said the judge, this case is clearly proved,
Prisoner, what have you in defence to say,
Why you should not for three long years,
Be sent abroad-perhaps to Botany Bay.

'Botany Bay!' the Yorkshireman replied,
'Dang it, for what, my lor, is this disgrace,
You're wrong, you're wrong, by gum,' he cried-
'And if you'll list, I'll state the case.'

I saw the watch, my lor, mark'd one pound five,
And on my life, my lor, I'll stake it-

If he did not, when I pull'd out my purse,
Say, "never mind, well, take it!"

COCKNEY SPORTSMEN; OR, FLASH VERSUS PAN. (Recited by Mr. Mathews.)

THE report of a musket from Wandsworth Common excited our attention to the spot from whence the sound proceeded, and presently two sportsmen hove in sight, whose garb and dialect evinced their residence to be by no means out of the ear-shot of Bow-bells; one of them was forcibly pulled forward by a large dog, tied by means of two pocket handkerchiefs from his collar to the leg of his sporting master. The wind setting our way, wafted the following dialogue :-"Twas your fau't.' 'Vy then, I say it var'nt then.' 'And I say it vas then, and you'll pay fo'rt.' 'Phoo! my eye, a'nt a jackdaw game?' 'Vell, and suppose it is, 'twas a jackass you shot.' 'Vell, how could I help it, vas'nt possible to see through an nedge, how could I see vat vas in the ditch?-Quiet, Dido, vill you? quiet, I say; the dog'll pull me into the river presently. O, ve'll appeal to this gentle

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man; beg pardon, sir, but pray, sir, is'nt a jackdaw game?' 'Not fair game, sir, I replied, if we may judge from his colour.' 'Colour, O, aye, that's very well for a joke; but that's not vhat I asked, sir; an't a jackdaw game? that's vhat I asked?' 'Why that, said I, has been recently settled, I believe, in the case, Flash versus Pan.' 'Vy he's a lawyer, Kit. Pray, sir, a'nt you a lawyer?' 'Yes,' said I, 'in what Shakspeare calls a "brief chronicle of the times." "Brief-0, I see, he is a lawyer, I tell you-brief-chronicle and times. What did you say, Sir, about the Chronicle and Times?' To revert, Sir, to the law case of Flash versus Pan; you will find in Blacklock upon Poaching, page 59, Chief Justice Ramrod ruled as follows:Quando, aimas at Jack Dawem, non licenced hittery Jack Assem. Ah! there, Kit, that's all of my side I can hear, animas -hitt-e-ry non— -Beg pardon, say it once more, if you please, sir, and a little slower, I vas but six veeks at Marchant Taylor's school; ma took me avay, 'cause a big boy inked my finger von morning.' 'Quando, aimas at Jack Dawem, non licenced hittery Jack Assem. There, didn't I tell you, he that shoots JackDaw-um is himself Jack-Assum, that's the meaning on it, I know.' Pray, Mr. 6 I beg pardon, what's your name?' "Cripplegate, sir, here's my card.' 'I see Cripplegate and Carraway, Grocers, &c., Bishopsgate Without, enquire within.' 'Be quiet, Dido-damn the dog, be quiet, I say; he'll pull me in the river presently. To be sure he will,' says the major, 'tie him to my leg, see if he'll pull me in; a team of oxen couldn't pull me in: there's muscle; 'pon my life it's true.' 'I am very anxious, sir, said I, for you to explain, why you have that dog tied to your leg; I have heard tell of tying tin canisters to a dog's tail, but I never saw one tied to the leg of a sporting man before.' 'Vhy then, I'll tell you all about it, from the beginning, and then ve shan't make no mistakes: you must know, sir, Tom Treacle and I agreed to meet at t'other side of Blackfriars Bridge-no, this side-no, not this side, t'other side -no, this here side vas the other side yesterday, but now this side's t'other-no, no, if we were in London this would be t'other, consequently this vould-vhy I am right, 'cause this is t'other side now ve are here on this side-no-vell, sir, you know vhat I mean-vell, Tom Treacle and I agree to go into Surrey, 'cause it vould be no use to begin shooting afore you get a good vay, 'cause the birds are nation vild, till you've passed the Circus; so just as ve got over the bridge, I heard somebody say, "There goes the Cocknies."-My eyes, Tom, says I, that's a slap at us. Presently, I heard some one say agen, "There goes the Cocknies." So says Tom, says he to me, says he, "shall we lick

'em?" So says I to Tom, says I, that depends upon how big they is, says I. There's a covey, a covey.' "Where?' 'No, sir, no, he knows nothing of a covey, sir! that's only Mrs. Simpson's infant Academy taking an airing. Presently, I heard some say agen, 'There goes the Cocknies. Vhen I looked up, sir, vat do you think it vas, no more than old Axletree the Coachmaker's Poll parrot, at corner of Vebber-row; so says I, blow me, but I'll have a slap at you, marm, says I, so just as I vas going to fire, and cocking my gun, and shutting my eyes for fear of the flash-"Stop," says Tom, says he to me, What? says I, "Your ramrod's in your gun," says he; and so it vas; so I takes it out, and just as I vas going to fire agen, "Hollo!" says Tom, says he, "vhat are you arter," says ne to me, says he. "Be quiet, will you," says I to him, says I, you're always a baulking one so, says I. So says Tom to me, says he, "Don't you see the sarvent girl?" And there she vas sure enough, a giving Poll some vhite o' negg for breakfast; so said I to her, said I, get out of the vay, marm, says I, and put yourself in a safe place, says I. So says she to me, said she, "I am in a safe place," says she, "you fool," says she; "a safe place is vhere you fires at," says she. Did you ever hear such himperance, sir? But being a gentleman, I determined to act as sich, and not on no account not to say nothing to a lady." "Stop, sir," said I, "vhat are you about? you vill shoot us all: and are you aware that your gun is upon the full cock!" "What then, sir?" "Now do turn it the other vay, pray, towards the river; aye, that's better, if it should go off." "No, it isn't (says Mr. Twaddle) it's a great deal vorse.' "Vy so, sir?" Frighten the fish." "Pray, sir, didn't you say my gun vas upon the full cock, and it vas wrong?" "Certainly." "Vy then, sir, I'll maintain its right: look here, sir, musn't this bit of flint hit this here iron thing over this brass pan afore it goes off?" "Certainly." "Vy then, sir, look here (showing the gun) if it is as close as that 'ere, it might go off of itself, vhen you least expect it; vhereby, if you pull it as far back as that, sir, it is twice as far as it vas afore, sir; and can't possibly go off at all." "That's admirable logic, said I, although I am not convinced; but you have not explained to me why that dog is tied to your leg." "Vhy, sir, I'll tell you; all day yesterday she vouldn't do nothing, but run first and frighten the birds, and vhen she found any, she vas more frightened than the birds of the two; for the moment she saw 'em, she stopped dead still, and stood vith one leg up so, sir, and her tail sticking out so stiff, like the lion upon the top of Northumberland House; so you see, sir, she vasn't no use at all; so I tied her to my leg, that ve might have better sport than ve had the first of last September."

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I'M A MERRY PARISH BEADLE.

GOD save the Queen!

I'm a merry parish beadle.

To church I bring

The little ragged boys;

The bells I ring,

To call to church all righteous people,
And bang the little rogues
Whene'er they make a noise.
Each parish resolution
I put in execution;

At every vestry party,

With spirits gay and hearty,

I there rejoice with heart and voice.

God save the Queen!

Spoken.] I'm not one of your lazy, foolish officers, who walk about doing nothing; no, no, I fills my hofishul campacity as it ought to be filled; because I considers as how I represents her Majesty, and therefore should always act with becoming dignity! I never objects to a fee, when it's a good one; I never takes up any person but when I expect to get something by it; I never declines an invitation to a parish dinner! Oh, there's no gam

mon in me!

And when in my campacity,

I represent her Majesty,

With heart and voice I do rejoice,
God save the Queen!

God save the Queen!

Till my death I shall be loyal,

I'll feast, sing, and drink,

As beadles ought to do:

God save the Queen!

For she is my mistress royal,

God save the Queen!

And bless her subjects, too.

To ev'ry parish dinner

I'll go, as I'm a sinner;

I'll gorge the best of pudduns,

But they must be good uns.

Both boil'd and roast I'll taste, then toast

God save the Queen!

Spoken.] Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes! Lost, a churchwarden's

appetite, supposed to have been taken from him by an over gorge

at the last parish dinner. Whoever has found the same, and will return it safe and sound to the owner, will be handsomely rewarded. N. B. If not returned within a fortnight previous to the next feast, it will be of no use to the said churchwarden. Now, young woman, what do you do here? I don't know. Why don't you go home ?-Acause I've got none.-) -Well, go to your mother's. I haven't got one.-Go to your father, then.-I've not got a father.-Go to your brother's or sister's then.-I've not got any. Well, go and get your dinner.-I haven't got a dinner. What, got no father, no mother, no sister, no brother, no home, and no dinner? Here take this half-crown, and get out of the parish then.

So when in my campacity,

I represent her Majesty,

With heart and voice I do rejoice,
God save the Queen!

ON THE DOWNFALL OF POLAND.
O SACRED Truth, thy triumph ceased a-while,
And Hope, thy sister, ceas'd with thee to smile,
When leagu'd oppression poured to northern wars
Her whisker'd pandoors and her fierce hussars,
Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn,
Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn;
Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van,

Presaging wrath to Poland-and to man;

Warsaw's late champion from her height survey'd,

Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid,

"O Heavens," he cried, "my bleeding country save,"
Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?

Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains,

Rise, fellow-men, our country yet remains,

By that dread name, we wave the sword on high,
And swear for her to live with her to die!"

He said, and on the rampart heights arrayed
His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed;
Firm paced and slow, a horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze, and dreadful as the storm;
Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly,
Revenge or death-the watchword and reply.
Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm,
And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm.

In vain-alas, in vain, ye gallant few,
From rank to rank your volley'd thunder flew ;

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