MISADVENTURES AT MARGATE.

"Cheer up! cheer up! my little man-cheer up!" I kindly said;
"You are a naughty boy to take such things into your head:
If you should jump from off this pier, you'd surely break your legs,
Perhaps your neck-then Bogy'd have you, sure as eggs are eggs!

"Come home with me, my little man-come home with me and sup;
My landlady is Mrs. Jones-we must not keep her up :-
There's roast potatoes on the fire,-enough for me and you-
Come home, you little vulgar boy-I lodge at number two."

I took him home to number two,—with charitable joy—
I bade him wipe his dirty shoes-he was a vulgar boy,-
And then I said to Mrs. Jones-the kindest of her sex-
"Pray, be so good as go and fetch a pint of double X."

But Mrs. Jones was rather cross, she made a little noise;
She said she "did not like to wait on little vulgar boys."
She with her apron wiped the plates, and, as she rubbed the delf,
Said, "I might go to--Jericho, and fetch the beer myself."

I did not go to Jericho-I went to Mr. Cobb

I changed a shilling (which in town the people call a "bob ");
It was not so much for myself as for that vulgar child,
And I said, “A pint of double X-and please to draw it mild!"

When I came back, I gazed about—I gazed on stool and chair—
I could not see my little friend—because he was not there!
I peeped beneath the table-cloth-beneath the sofa too,

I said, "You little vulgar boy! why, what's become of you?"

I could not see my table-spoons :-I looked, but couldn't see
The little fiddle-pattern ones I use when I'm at tea ;—

I couldn't see my sugar-tongs-my silver watch-oh dear!

I know 't was on the mantelpiece when I went out for beer.

I couldn't see my Mackintosh !—it was not to be seen!

Nor yet my best white beaver hat,-broad-brimmed, and lined with green; My carpet-bag-my cruet-stand,-that holds my sauce and soy

My roast potatoes! all are gone!-and so 's that vulgar boy!

I

rang the bell for Mrs. Jones, for she was down below;—

"Oh, Mrs. Jones! what do you think? ain't this a pretty go?— That horrid little vulgar boy, whom I brought here to-night,

He's stolen my things and run away."-Says she, "And sarve you right!"

Next morning I was up betimes-I sent the crier round,
All with his bell and gold-laced hat, to say I'd give a pound
To find that little vulgar boy, who'd gone and used me so;
But when the crier cried "O yes!" the people cried "O no!”
I went down to the "landing-place," the glory of the town,
There was a common sailor-man a-walking up and down:

I told my tale-he seemed to think I'd not been treated well;
He called me "Poor green buffer!"-what that means I cannot tell.
That sailor-man he said he'd seen, that morning on the shore,

A son-of something-'t was a name I never heard before

A little "gallows-looking chap,"-dear me, what could he mean?

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a carpet-swab," and "mucking togs," and a hat turned up with green.

He spoke about his "precious eyes," and said he'd seen him "sheer,"-
It's very odd that sailor-men should talk so very queer;
And then he hitched his trousers up, as is, I'm told, their use,-
It's very odd that sailor-men should wear those things so loose.

A landsman said, "I twig the chap,-he's been upon the 'mill,'
And 'cause he gammons so the flats, ve calls him Veeping Bill!
He said "he'd done me wery brown, and nicely stowed the swag."
That's French, I fancy, for a hat,-or else a carpet bag.

I went and told the constable my property to track;
He asked me if I did not wish that I might get it back?

I answered, "To be sure I do!-it's what I came about ;"

He smiled and said, "Sir, does your mother know that you are out?"

Not knowing what to do, I thought I'd hasten back to town,

And beg our own Lord Mayor to catch the boy who'd "done me brown."

His Lordship very kindly said he'd try to find him out,

But he "rather thought that there were several vulgar boys about."

He sent for the Inspector then, and I described the "swag,"-
My "Mackintosh," my sugar-tongs, my spoons, my carpet-bag;
He promised that the New Police should all their power employ,
But never to this hour have I beheld that little vulgar boy!

REMEMBER, then, what (when a boy) I've heard my grandma' tell,
"BE WARNED IN TIME BY OTHERS' HARM, AND YOU SHALL do full well;
Don't link yourself with vulgar folk who've got no fixed abode,
Tell lies, use naughty words, and say they "wish they may be blowed!"

Don't take too much of double X! and don't at night go out
To fetch your beer yourself, but make the pot-boy bring your stout!
And when you go to Margate next, just stop and ring the bell,
Give my respects to Mrs. Jones, and say I'm pretty well.

-BARHAM.

THE CORONATION OF QUEEN VICTORIA.

ОCH! the Coronation! what celebration

For emulation can with it compare?
When to Westminster the Royal Spinster,
And the Duke of Leinster, all in order did repair!
'T was there you'd see the New Polishemen

Making a skrimmage at half after four,
And the Lords and Ladies, and the Miss O'Gradys,
All standing round before the Abbey door.

Their pillows scorning, that self-same morning
Themselves adorning, all by candle-light,
With roses and lilies, and daffy down dillies,
And gould and jewels, and rich di'monds bright.
And then approaches five hundred coaches,

With General Dullbeak-Och! 't was mighty fine
To see how asy bould Corporal Casey

With his sword drawn, prancing, made them keep the line.

Then the Guns' alarums, and the King at Arums
All in his Garters and his Clarence-shoes,
Opening the massy doors to the bould Ambassydors,
The Prince of Potboys, and great haythen Jews;
'T would have made you crazy to see Esterhazy,

All jools from his jasey to his di'mond boots,
With Alderman Harmer, and that swate charmer,
The famale heiress, Miss Anja-ly Coutts.

And Wellington, walking with his sword drawn, talking

To Hill and Hardinge, haroes of great fame: And Sir De Lacy, and the Duke Dalmasey

(They called him Sowlt afore he changed his name), Themselves presading Lord Melbourne, lading

The Queen, the darling, to her royal chair,

And that fine ould fellow, the Duke of Pell-Mello,
The Queen of Portingal's Chargy-de-fair.

THE JACKDAW OF RHEIMS.

THE JACKDAW OF RHEIMS.

"Tunc miser Corvus adeo conscientiæ stimulis compunctus fuit, et execratio eum tantopere excarneficavit, ut exinde tabescere inciperet, maciem contraheret, omnem cibum aversaretur, nec ampliùs crocitaret: pennæ præterea et defluebant, et alis pendulis omnes facetias intermisit, et tam macer apparuit ut omnes ejus miserescent."

"Tunc abbas sacerdotibus mandavit ut rursus furem absolverent; quo facto, Corvus, omnibus mirantibus, propediem convaluit, et pristinam sanitatem recuperavit."-De Illust. Ord. Cisterc.