Consider my case in the light it deserves
And pity the state of my stomach and nerves."
But a tight little doctor bégan a dispute
About administration, Newcastle and Bute,
Talked much of economy-

So thus they brushed off, each his cane at his nose,
When Jenny came in who had heard all their prose:
"I'll teach them," says she, "at their next consultation
To come and take fees for the good of the nation."
I could not conceive what the duse 'twas she meant,
But she seized all the stuff that the doctor had sent
And out of the window she flung it down souse,
As the first politician went out of the house.
Decoctions and syrups around him all flew,
Pills, boluses, jalap, and apozem too;
His wig had the luck an emulsion to meet
And squash went a gallipot under his fect.

Having turned out the doctors, the whole party improve both in health and spirits; Miss Jenny picks up a military lover, under whose auspices Simkin turns beau :

No city, dear mother, this city excels

In charming sweet sounds both of fiddles and bells,

I thought, like a fool, that they only would ring

For a wedding, or judge, or the birth of a king;

But I found 'twas for me that the good-natured people

Rang so hard that I thought they would pull down the steeple;

So I took out my purse as I hate to be shabby

And paid all the men when they came from the abbey.

Yet some think it strange they should make such a riot
In a place where rich folk would be glad to be quiet.

Tabitha Rust, the waiting-maid, takes a bath:

'Twas a glorious sight to behold the fair sex
All wading with gentlemen up to their necks;
And to-day many persons of rank and condition
Were boiled by command of an able physician.
Dean Spavin, Dean Mangy and Doctor De Squirt
Were all sent from Cambridge to rub off their dirt;
Judge Bore and the worthy old Counselor Pest
Joined issue at once and went in with the rest;

Old Baron Vanteaser, a man of great wealth,

Brought his lady the Baroness here for her health;
Miss Scratchit went in and the Countess of Scales,
Both ladies of very great fashion in Wales;
Then all on a sudden two persons of worth,
My Lady Pandora Macscurvy came forth
With General Sulphur arrived from the North.
So Tabby you see had the honor of washing
With folks of condition and very high fashion;
But in spite of good company, poor little soul,
She shook both her ears like a mouse in a bowl.

This description of the two sexes bathing in common in the chief water-drinking place of England so recently as during the American War, would seem incredible if it were not confirmed by an almost cotemporary writer, Smollett, in his last, and incomparably his best novel, "The Expedition of Humphrey Clinker."

Our friend Simkin prepares for a ball:

Thank Heaven, of late, my dear mother, my face is

Not a little regarded at all public places:

For I ride in a chair with my hands in a muff,

And have bought a silk coat, and embroidered the cuff;
But the weather was cold, and the coat it was thin,

So the tailor advised me to line it with skin.
But what with my Nivernois hat can compare,
Bag-wig and laced ruffles and black solitaire ?
And what can a man of true fashion denote

Like a yard of good ribbon tied under his throat?
My buckles and box are in exquisite taste;

The one is of paper, the other of paste;

And my stockings of silk are just come from the hosier,

For to-night I'm to dance with the charming Miss Toser.

He goes to the ball. After two or thee pages of rhapsodies :

But hark! now they strike the melodious string,

The vaulted roof echoes, the mansions all ring;

At the sound of the hautboy, the bass and the fiddle,

Sir Boreas Blubber steps forth in the middle,

Like a hollyhock, noble, majestic and tall,

Sir Boreas Blubber first opens the ball.

Sir Boreas, great in the minuet known,

Since the day that for dancing his talents were shown
Where the science is practiced by gentlemen grown.
How he puts on his hat with a smile on his face

And delivers his hand with an exquisite grace!
How gently he offers Miss Carrot before us
Miss Carrot Fitz-oozer a niece of Lord Porus!
How nimbly he paces, how active and light!
One never can judge of a man at first sight;
But as near as I guess from the size of his calf
He may weigh about twenty-three stone and a half.
Now why should I mention a hundred or more
Who went the same circle as others before

To a tune that they played us a hundred times o'er?

I must find room for some scraps of a public breakfast. Simkin invokes the desire of popularity:

'Twas you made my Lord Ragamuffin come here,

Who, they say, has been lately created a peer,

And to-day, with extreme complaisance and respect, asked
All the people of Bath to a general breakfast.

You've heard of my Lady Bunbutter, no doubt,
How she loves an assembly, fandango, or rout;
No lady in London is half so expert

At a snug private party her friends to divert;

But they say that of late she's grown sick of the town,
And often to Bath condescends to come down:

Her ladyship's favorite house is The Bear,"
Her chariot and servants and horses are there.

Now, my lord had the honor of coming down post
To pay his respects to so famous a toast;
In hopes he her ladyship's favor might win,
By playing the part of a host at an inn.

He said it would greatly our pleasure promote
If we all for Spring Gardens set out in a boat;
Though I never as yet could his reason explain
Why we all sallied forth in the wind and the rain.
For sure such confusion was never yet known,
Here a cap and a hat, there a cardinal blown;
While his lordship, embroidered and powdered all o'er,
Was bowing, and handing the ladies ashore.
How the misses did huddle, and scuddle, and run,

One would think to be wet must be very good fun;

For by waggling their gown-tails they seemed to take pains

To moisten their pinions, like ducks when it rains;

And 'twas pretty to see, how like birds of a feather

The people of quality all flocked together;

All pressing, addressing, caressing, and fond,

Just as so many ganders and geese in a pond.

You've read all their names in the news, I suppose,
But for fear you have not, take the list as it goes:
There was Lady Greasewrister,

And Madam Van Twister,

Her ladyship's sister;

Lord Cram and Lord Vulter,

Sir Brandish O'Culter,
With Marshal Carouser,

And old Lady Drouser,

And the great Hanoverian Baron Pansmouser,
Besides many others who all in the rain went
On purpose to honor this grand entertainment.
The company made a most brilliant appearance,
And ate bread and butter with great perseverance;
All the chocolate, too, that my lord set before 'em,
The ladies dispatched with the utmost decorum;
And had I a voice that was stronger than steel,
With twice fifty tongues to express what feel,
And as many good mouths, yet I never could utter
All the speeches my lord made to Lady Bunbutter!

Now why should the Muse, my dear mother, relate
The misfortunes that fall to the lot of the great?
As homeward we came-'tis with sorrow you'll hear
What a dreadful disaster attended the peer:

In landing old Lady Bumfidget and daughter

This obsequious lord tumbled into the water;

But a nymph of the flood brought him safe to the boat,
And I left all the ladies a cleaning his coat.

A worse disaster than that which befell Lord Ragamuffin is in store for our good-humored letter-writer. His friend, Captain Cormorant, who, by the way, turns out to be no captain at all, and who had undertaken, among other fashionable accomplishments, to initiate him in the mysteries of lansquenet, cheats him out of seven hundred pounds; so that Miss Jenny loses her lover, and her cousin his money at one stroke. Prudence and Tabitha also come in for their share of misadventures; and the whole party return crest-fallen and discomfited to the good old Lady Blunderhead and their Yorkshire Manor-house.

XXVI.

AMERICAN POETS.

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER-FITZ-GREENE HALLECK.

I DID a great injustice the other day when I said that the Americans had at last a great poet. I should have remembered that poets, like sorrows,

"Come not single spies

But in battalions."

There is commonly a flight of those singing-birds, as we had ourselves at the beginning of the present century; and besides Professor Longfellow, Bryant, Willis, Lowell and Poe do the highest honor to America.

The person, however, whom I should have most injured myself in forgetting, for my injustice could not damage a reputation such as his, was John G. Whittier, the most intensely national of American bards.

Himself a member of the Society of Friends, the two most remarkable of his productions are on subjects in which that active although peaceful sect take a lively interest: the anti-slavery cause, in the present day; and the persecution of the Quakers, which casts such deep disgrace on the memory of the Pilgrim Fathers and their immediate successors in the early history of New England.

Strange it seems to us in this milder age, that these men, themselves flying from the intolerance of the Old Country, should, the moment they attained to any thing like power, nay, even while disputing with the native Indians, not the possession of the soil, but the mere privilege of dwelling peaceably therein, at once stiffen themselves into a bigotry and a persecution not excelled by the horrors of the Star Chamber! should, as soon as they attained the requisite physical force, chase and scourge, and