B-p of D-rh-m, Master of the Stag Hounds, and to be allowed ten whippers-in.

B-p of El-h-n, Feeder and Boiler to the Hunt.

TO AMATEURS AND ARTISTS.

[From the same, March 8.]

BRAZEN and Co. Statuaries, New Road, will have the honour of exhibiting for sale, in the course of a few days (unless previously disposed of by private contract), two very curious statues, as large as life. The one appears to be made of a mixed base metal, and was found in a Scotch hut, near Edinburgh, about the year 1780, since which time it has been constantly exposed to public view, and from having passed through various hands, became much corroded and incrusted; but by the application of that valuable and newly-discovered whitening and cleaning paste, for stopping up flaws and cracks, and taking out stains (of which Messrs. Hawkingborough, Pettifog, and Castlerag, are the sole Inventors and Patentees), it is now considered by the said patentees as being in a fit state to meet the public eye, and will be fixed up in a large Assembly room hired for that purpose near New Palace Yard; a few yellow stains still remain in the palms of the hands, but by the application of varnish they are considerably diminished, and are now only stains in the eyes of the truly chaste and correct virtuosi.

If bought by the public, it will be exposed to view for a few weeks in the court-yard of the Ad-m-y. The other figure is of a smaller size, and was lately sent from India, and may be considered as a very clever performance; but, when examined in detail, will be found to have defects that may recommend it to the highest collectors. From every appearance, there can

be

be no doubt of its having been the statue of some eastern prince, or bashaw; notwithstanding other circumstances attending its form and make seem to prove that it must originally have come from the ancient island of Ierne, and was looked upon by the inhabitants of India as one of the gods they worshipped in the Harems, and before which that cast of females used to dance, that are now known by the name of the dancing girls. The above-mentioned valuable discovery has been applied to this little Indian Deity, and the effect is wonderful. The small part of an inscription is visible, in the Arabic characters. The translation appears to be as follows: "Paull! Paull! why persecutest thou me ?" an evident proof that this figure existed about the earliest times of Christianity.

If bought by the public, the patentees have not yet decided in what place to expose it. As great difference of opinion exists as to the effect it might produce, its value is less acknowledged than the former statue, but equal pains have been necessary in purifying and newvarnishing it.

N. B. A very large block of Portland stone to be disposed of cheap: inquire as above.

GREAT WITS HAVE SHORT MEMORIES.

[From the same, March 21.]

DISPATCHES.

We produce the facts I wrote,

HEN H-h-n to C

-g cried,

The pert and quibbling youth replied,
"From memory I quote."

"Produce the papers," still was said,
And still it did not suit;

The Secretary hung his head,
Look'd little, and was mute

So

So much for courage in debate,
And frothy declamation:

By means like these if men are great,
Hail, blest prevarication!

HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY,

COLD-BATH FIELDS.

[From the Morning Post, March 21.]
SIR Frank, we find, has such aversion
To rules, to orders, and coercion,
That he most piteously bewails
The want of freedom, e'en in jails:
Laments the solitude, and dwells
With horror on the cold of cells;
And in the course of his vagaries,
Pro Focis pleads, though not pro Aris *.

FRENCH ILLUMINATIONS.

NA

[From the Morning Chronicle.]

TAPOLEON's subjects at Rochelle
In loyalty, 't is said, excel,

Because their windows did display
Illuminations bright as day:
O may such loyalty still thrive!
For 't was not that he did arrive,
But that he went away.
Hampstead, 25th March 1858.

то

PAT'S ARGUMENT.

[From the Oracle, March 26.]

O be sure all the Talents were driv'n from their station,
As the Treasury wits loudly bawl,

For now at the helm of this thrice happy nation

There's the devil a Talent at all!!!

VOL. XII,

* The name of the gaoler.

K

A DANISH

A DANISH TALE,

(A LA SOUTHEY,)

AS IT WILL BE SAID OR SUNG SOME FIFTY YEARS HENCE.

A

[From the Morning Chronicle, March 26.]

I demens! et sævas curre per Alpes,
Ut pueris placeas, et declamatio fias.

SUMMER ev'ning's fairy dye
Had crimson'd o'er the western sky;
Grey-headed Hoffman's work was done,
And he was sitting in the sun;
An aged hawthorn stood before
His ivy-mantled cottage door,
And honeysuckles lent their aid
To beautify his humble shed;
His little grandchild Peterkin
Was sporting on the distant green,
Rolling round a circling ball
He found beside a mould'ring wall.
He came to ask what he had found
That was so smooth, and large, and round;
The old man took it from the boy,
Then shook his head, and with a sigh:
"'T is some poor fellow's skull," said he,
"Who fell in Wellesley's victory.
That Wellesley was a man of might,
And well he fought that gallant fight;
For then was many a fearless Dane
Laid low upon his native plain.
The anxious boy, with earnest plea,
Impatient climbs his grandsire's knee;
And while the ardour of surprise
Shone in his wonder-waiting eyes,
Entreats the spirit-stirring story-

Who fought for fame? who died for glory?
And wily pats the old man's chin-
"Now tell your little Peterkin;
Come tell me all about the war,
And what they kill'd each other for;

And

And all about this Wellesley too,
And what he did, I may not do.”
"I'll tell you what 't was all about:
The English put the Danes to rout,
And by a splendid victory
Enforc'd the new morality.

It was a shocking sight, they say,
When noble Cathcart won the day,
And march'd into the smoking town,
And found the ruins all his own."
"But tell me what 't was all about,
And why they put the Danes to rout."
"'Tis no great matter, in a war,
What people kill each other for;
The only ground of proper boast
Is, which of them shall kill the most.
'Tis idle, therefore, to inquire
Why they set the town on fire.
But ev'ry body said," quoth he,
"The English had the victory.
And yet it was a shocking sight
To see the fearful mother's flight,
While with frantic care she prest
Still closer to her throbbing breast
The babe that pass'd, with transient breath,
From instant life to instant death;
To see, when all the work was done,
The corses rotting in the sun;
The dying mingled with the dead;
The wounded, bleeding as he fled;
While the frequent drops betray,
And track the wretch's faltering way.
But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.

And then the shells that burst around;
The houses tumbling to the ground;
The frighted virgin's piercing cry,
While the ruins round her fly.

Great praise the mighty Cathcart won,
And Wellesley too for all he'd done.
The brave Gambier was there that day-
Stood by, look'd on, and saw fair play,
Then prais'd the Lord, and-went to pray."

K 2

"Fair