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Alas for Freedom, and for Freedom's hero!
Alas for liberty of life and limb!
For Pug had only half unbolted Nero,
When Nero bolted him!

13.

"T IS NOT FINE FEATHERS THAT MAKE FINE BIRDS.

A PEACOCK came, with his plumage gay,
Strutting in regal pride, one day,
Where a little bird hung in a gilded cage,
Whose song might a seraph's ear engage.
The bird sang on, while the peacock stood,
Vaunting his plumes to the neighborhood;
And the radiant sun seemed not more bright
Than the bird that basked in his golden light;
But the little bird sang, in his own sweet words,
""Tis not fine feathers that make fine birds!"

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The peacock strutted;

a bird so fair Never before had ventured there,

While the small bird hung at the cottage door,
And what could a peacock wish for more?
Alas! the bird of the rainbow wing,
He was n't contented, - he tried to sing!
And they who gazed on his beauty bright,
Scared by his screaming, soon took to flight;
While the little bird sang, in his own sweet words,
""Tis not fine feathers that make fine birds!"

Then, prithee, take warning, maidens fair,
And still of the peacock's fate beware;
Beauty and wealth won't win your way,
Though they're attired in plumage gay;
Something to charm you all must know,
Apart from fine feathers and outward show;
A talent, a grace, a gift of mind,

Or else small beauty is left behind!

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While the little birds sing, in their own true words, ""Tis not fine feathers that make fine birds!"

14. THE CULPRIT AND THE JUDGE. -Horace Smith.

A GASCON, who had long pursued
The trade of clipping

And filing the similitude

Of good King Pepin,

Was caught by the police, who found him

With file and scissors in his hand,

And ounces of Pactolian sand

Lying around him.

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15. THE JESTER CONDEMNED TO DEATH.- Horace Smith.

ONE of the Kings of Scanderoon, a royal jester, had in his train a gross buffoon, who used to pester the court with tricks inopportune, venting on the highest folks his scurvy pleasantries and hoaxes. It needs some sense to play the fool; which wholesome rule occurred not to our jackanapes, who consequently found his freaks lead to innumerable scrapes, and quite as many kicks and tweaks; which only made him faster try the patience of his master.

Some sin, at last, beyond all measure, incurred the desperate displeasure of his serene and raging Highness. Whether the wag had twitched his beard, which he was bound to have revered, or had intruded on the shyness of the seraglio, or let fly an epigram at royalty, none knows—his sin was an occult one; but records tell us that the Sultan, meaning to terrify the knave, exclaimed, "T is time to stop that breath! Thy doom is sealed, presumptuous slave! Thou stand'st condemned to certain death! Silence, base rebel! no replying. But such is my indulgence still, that, of my own free grace and will, I leave to thee the mode of dying." Your royal will be done; 't is just," replied the wretch, and kissed the dust; "since, my last moments to assuage, your majesty's humane decree has deigned to leave the choice to me, I'll die, so please you, of old age!"

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16. THE POET AND THE ALCHEMIST. — - Horace Smith.

BEFORE this present golden age of writers, a Grub-street Garreteer existed, one of the regular inditers of odes and poems to be twisted into encomiastic verses, for patrons who have heavy purses. Besides the bellman's rhymes, he had others to let, both gay and sad, all ticketed from A to Izzard; and, living by his wits, I need not add, the rogue was lean as any lizard. Like a rope-maker's were his ways; for still one line upon another he spun, and, like his hempen brother, kept going backwards all his days. Hard by his attic lived a chemist, or alchemist, who had a mighty faith in the Elixir Vitæ ; and, though

unflattered by the dimmest glimpses of success, kept groping and grubbing in his dark vocation; stupidly hoping to find the art of changing metals, and guineas coin from pots and kettles, by mystery of transmutation.

Our starving poet took occasion to seek this conjuror's abode; not with encomiastic ode, or laudatory dedication, but with an offer to impart, for twenty pounds, the secret art, which should procure, without the pain of metals, chemistry and fire, what he so long had sought in vain, and gratify his heart's desire. The money paid, our bard was hurried to the philosopher's sanctorum: who, somewhat sublimized, and flurried out of his chemical decorum, crowed, capered, giggled, seemed to spurn his crucibles, retort and furnace, and cried, as he secured the door, and carefully put to the shutter: "Now, now, the secret, I implore! For Heaven's sake, speak, discover, utter!" With grave and solemn air, the Poet cried: "List! O, list! for thus I show it: Let this plain truth those ingrates strike, who still, though blessed, new blessings crave: that we may all have what we like, simply by liking what we have!"

17. BLINDMAN'S BUFF. - Horace Smith.

THREE wags (whom some fastidious carpers might rather designate three sharpers) entered, at York, the Cat and Fiddle; and, finding that the host was out on business for two hours or more, while Sam, the rustic waiter, wore the visage of a simple lout, whom they might safely try to diddle, they ordered dinner in a canter, — cold or hot, it mattered not, provided it was served instanter; and, as the heat had made them very dry and dusty in their throttles, they bade the waiter bring three bottles of prime old Port, and one of Sherry. Sam ran with ardor to the larder, then to the kitchen; and, as he briskly went to work, he drew from the spit a roasted turkey, with sausages embellished, which in a trice upon the board was spread, together with a nice, cold brisket; nor did he even obliviscate half a pig's head. To these succeeded puddings, pies, custards and jellies, all doomed to full a sacrifice to their insatiable bellies; as if, like camels, they intended to stuff into their monstrous craws enough to satisfy their maws, until their pilgrimage was ended. Talking, laughing, eating and quaffing, the bottles stood no moment still. They rallied Sam with joke and banter, and, as they drained the last decanter, called for the bill.

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'T was brought, when one of them, who eyed and added up the items, cried, "Extremely moderate, indeed! I'll make a point to recommend this inn to every travelling friend; and you, Sam, shall be doubly fee'd." This said, a weighty purse he drew, when his companion interposed:-"Nay, Harry, that will never do; pray let your purse again be closed; you paid all charges yesterday; 't is clearly now my turn to pay." Harry, however, would n't listen to any such insulting offer; his generous eyes appeared to glisten, indig

nant at the very proffer; and, though his friend talked loud, his clangor served but to aggravate Hal's anger. "My worthy fellow," cried the third, "now, really, this is too absurd. What do both of you forget, I have n't paid a farthing, yet? Am I eternally to cram, at your expense ? T is childish, quite. I claim this payment as my right. Here, how much is the money, Sam?"

To this most rational proposal, the others gave such fierce negation, one might have fancied they were foes, all; so hot became the altercation, each in his purse his money rattling, insisting, arguing and battling. One of them cried, at last : "A truce! This point we will no longer moot. Wrangling for trifles is no use; and, thus we 'll finish the dispute: That we may settle what we three owe, we 'll blindfold Sam, and whichsoe'er he catches of us first shall bear all the expenses of the trio, with half a crown (if that 's enough) to Sam, for playing blindman's buff." Sam liked it hugely, Sam liked it hugely, thought the ransom for a good game of fun was handsome; gave his own handkerchief beside, to have his eyes securely tied, and soon began to grope and search; when the three knaves, I need n't say, adroitly left him in the lurch, slipped down the stairs and stole away. Poor Sam continued hard at work. Now o'er a chair he gets a fall; now floundering forwards with a jerk, he bobs his nose against the wall; and now encouraged by a subtle fancy that they 're near the door, he jumps behind it to explore, and breaks his shins against the scuttle; crying, at each disaster-"Drat it! Hang it ! 'od rabbit it!" and "Rat it! Just in the crisis of his doom, the host, returning, sought the room; and Sam no sooner heard his tread, than, pouncing on him like a bruin, he almost shook him into ruin, and, with a shout of laughter, said: :- "Huzza! I've caught you now; so down with cash for all, and my half crown!" Off went the bandage, and his eyes seemed to be goggling o'er his forehead, while his mouth widened with a horrid look of agonized surprise. "Gull!" roared his master; "Gudgeon! dunce! fool, as you are, you 're right for once; 't is clear that I must pay the sum; but this one thought my wrath assuages that every half-penny shall come out of your wages!

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18. THE FARMER AND THE COUNSELLOR. - Horace Smith.

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A COUNSEL in the Common Pleas, who was esteemed a mighty wit, upon the strength of a chance hit, amid a thousand flippancies, and his occasional bad jokes, in bullying, bantering, browbeating, ridiculing and maltreating women, or other timid folks, in a late cause, resolved to hoax a clownish Yorkshire farmer, -one, who, by his uncouth look and gait, appeared expressly meant by Fate for being quizzed and played upon. So, having tipped the wink to those in the back rows, who kept their laughter bottled down until our wag should draw the cork, he smiled jocosely on the clown, and went to work. 'Well, Farmer Numscull, how go calves at York?" Why - not, Sir, as they do wi' you; but on four legs, instead of two." "Officer!"

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cried the legal elf, piqued at the laugh against himself, "do pray keep silence down below, there. Now, look at me, clown, and attend; have I not seen you somewhere, friend?" "Yes, very like; I often go there." "Our rustic 's waggish quite laconic!" the counsel cried, with grin sardonic; "I wish I'd known this prodigy, this genius of the clods, when I on circuit was at York residing. Now, Farmer, do for once speak true; mind, you 're on oath, so tell me, you who doubtless think yourself so clever, are there as many fools as ever in the West Riding?" Why, no Sir, no; we've got our share, but not so many as when you were there."

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19. MR. PUFF'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF.-Sheridan.

SIR, I make no secret of the trade I follow. Among friends and brother authors, I love to be frank on the subject, and to advertise myself vivâ vocé. I am, Sir, a practitioner in anegyric; or, to speak more plainly, a professor of the art of puffing, at your service-or anybody else's. I dare say, now, you conceive half the very civil paragraphs and advertisements you see to be written by the parties concerned, or their friends. No such thing; nine out of ten manufactured by me, in the way of business. You must know, Sir, that, from the first time I tried my hand at an advertisement, my success was such, that for some time after I led a most extraordinary life, indeed. Sir, I supported myself two years entirely by my misfortunes; by advertisements To the charitable and humane! and, To those whom Providence has blessed with affluence! And, in 'truth, I deserved what I got; for I suppose never man went through such a series of calamities in the same space of time. Sir, I was five times made a bankrupt, and reduced from a state of affluence, by a train of unavoidable misfortunes; then, Sir, though a very industrious tradesman, I was twice burned out, and lost my little all both times. I lived upon those fires a month. I soon after was confined by a most excruciating disorder, and lost the use of my limbs. That told very well; for I had the case strongly attested, and went about to collect the subscriptions myself. I was afterwards twice tapped for a dropsy, which declined into a very profitable consumption. I was then reduced to -O, no!- then I became a widow, with six helpless children. All this I bore with patience, though I made some occasional attempts at felo de se; but, as I did not find those rash actions answer, I left off killing myself very soon. Well, Sir, at last, what with bankruptcies, fires, gouts, dropsies, imprisonments, and other valuable calamities, having got together a pretty handsome sum, I determined to quit a business which had always gone rather against my conscience, and in a more liberal way still to indulge my talents for fiction and embellishments, through my favorite channel of diurnal communication; and so, Sir, you have my history.

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