CAPTAIN COPP AND HIS NIECE. BY JOHN HOWARD PAYNE. 1824. A Scene from the Comedy of Charles the Second. COPP. What, Mary, my little blossom, what cheer? what cheer? Keep close, my little heartwhy do you stir out of port? Here be cruizers abroad. MARY. Who are those people, uncle, that make such a noise? COPP. Two hearty blades-mad roysterers-oons how they drink. I was obliged to part company, old cruiser as I am, or they would soon have had me on my beam ends. MARY. Are they sailors, uncle? COPP. To be sure they are: who else would fling about money as they do, and treat a whole bar-room? The tallest in particular is a very devil. Hollo, Captain Copp, cries he every minute, another bottle to treat my brother tars. MARY. By their swaggering about so, they must be very rich. COPP. Pho, child, 'tisn't the deepest laden ships that make the most rolling. MARY. But they spend their money so freely. COPP. A sure sign that it's running out. The longest cable must come to an end. He that pays out fastest, will soonest be brought up with a round turn. Suppose MARY. To what ship do they belong? COPP. That's more than I can say. they're a couple of man-of-war's-men just paid off, who think they've a Spanish mine in their pocket(shout of laughter from within). Ah, the jolly tars! I was just the same at their age. COPP. Well, and can't you sing without him? MARY (pettishly). I can't tell, its very tiresome. If he did not mean to come again, he might have said so. MARY. I should like to have a look at them. COPP. Avast there-what, trust thee in the way of two such rovers? No, no, I recollect too well what it was to get on shore after a long voyage. The first glimpse of a petticoat-whew! up board- COPP. Oddsfish, neglect thee-neglect his duty! Thou shalt have ing pikes and grappling irons!-(Recollecting him--I'll break him on the spot. self.) Ahem-no, no, child, mustn't venture in another master, my girl. these latitudes. MARY. Ah, my good uncle, you are always so careful of me. COPP. And why not? What else have I in the whole world to care for, or to care for me? Thou art all that's left to me out of the family fleet-a poor slight little pinnace. I've seen the rest, one after another, go down; it shall go hard but I'll convoy thee safe into port. MARY. I fear I give you a great deal of trouble, my dear uncle. COPP. Thou'rt the very best lass in the whole kingdom, and I love thee as I loved my poor brother; that's because you're his very image. To be sure, you haven't his jolly nose, and your little mouth is but a fool to his. But then, there are his eyes, and his smile, and the good humored cut of his face-(sighing) poor Philip! What: I'm going again, like the other night-(wiping his eyes). Psha! let's change the subject, because, d'ye see, sensibility and all that, it does me no good-noneso let's talk of something else. What makes thee so silent of late, my girl? I've not heard a song from thee these three days! MARY. It's three days since I've seen my music master. MARY (eagerly). Oh no, on no account; I dare say he is not well, some accident has happened. Besides, there is no other teacher in town equal to him, he sings with such feeling. COPP. Ah! girl, if I had my old messmate, Jack Ratlin, here, he'd teach thee to sing. He had a voice-faith it would make all the bottles dance, and glasses jingle on the table!-Talk of feeling! Why, when Jack would sit of an evening on the capstan when on watch, and sing about sweethearts and wives, and jolly tars, and true lovers' knots, and the roaring seas, and all that; smite my timbers, but it was enough to melt the heart of a grampus. Poor Jack, he taught me the only song I ever knew; it's a main good one though(SINGS A STAVE.) In the time of the Rump, With his broom swept the chops of the Channel; MARY (putting her hand on his mouth.) Oh, uncle, uncle, don't sing that horrible rough song. COPP. Rough? that's the beauty of it. It rouses one up, pipes all hands to quarters like a boatswain's call. Go in, Mary, but go in at the other door; don't go near the bar: go up to your own COPP. There they go again! I can't stand it any longer. I am an old cruiser, and can't hear an engagement without longing to be in the midst of it. Avast, though (stopping short), these lads are THE ROBBER. BY J. G. C. BRAINARD. 1825. Two large bags containing newspapers, were stolen from the boot behind the Southern Mail Coach, yesterday morning about one o'clock, between New Brunswick and Bridgetown. The straps securing the bags in the boot were cut, and nothing else injured or removed therefrom. The letter mails are always carried in the front boot of the coach, under the driver's feet, and therefore cannot be so easily approached.-N. Y. Evening Post. THE moon hangs lightly on yon western hill; Now strike your light. Ye powers that look upon us! I utterly detest. And these particularly, THE TWO COMETS. BY J. G. C. BRAINARD. 1825. There were two visible at the time this was written; and for the verses, they were, on other accounts, strictly occasional. THERE once dwelt in Olympus some notable oddities, | An eloquent God, though he didn't say much; For their wild singularities called Gods and God desses But one in particular beat 'em all hollow, Now Phœb. was a genius-his hand he could turn But he drew a long bow, spoke Greek, Latin and A doctor, a poet, a soarer, a diver, And of horses in harness an excellent driver. He would tackle his steeds to the wheels of the sun, So good-natured Phoebus gave Phaey the seat, With his mittens, change, way bill, and stage horn complete; To the breeze of the morning he shook his bright locks, Blew the lamps of the night out, and mounted the box. The crack of his whip, like the breaking of day, Warmed the wax in the ears of the leaders, and they, With a snort, like the fog of the morning, cleared out For the west, as young Phaey meant to get there about Two hours before sunset. He looks at his "turnip," And to make the delay of the old line concern up, He gave 'em the reins; and from Aries to Cancer, The style of his drive on the road seemed to answer; But at Leo, the ears of the near wheel horse pricked, And at Virgo the heels of the off leader kicked; Over Libra the whiffle-tree broke in the middle, And the traces snapped short, like the strings of a fiddle. One wheel struck near Scorpio, who gave it a roll, And set it to buzz, like a top, round the pole; While the other whizzed back, with its linchpin and hub, Or, more learnedly speaking, its nucleus or nub; The state of poor Phaeton's coach was a blue one, That the eyes of the chargers as meteors shine forth; That their manes stream along in the lights of the north; That the wheels, which are missing, are comets, that run As fast as they did when they carried the sun; PETTYFOG. AN AFTER DINNER ECLOGUE. BY MICAH P. FLINT. 1826. THE plates removed, three full decanters stand, DANDICULE. Let Pettyfog decide; for he has read, PUSHWELL. Though my keen wit needs not a whetted edge, When late I strove, to snatch a forfeit kiss; Till, struggling free, she fled, and left me this. DANDICULE. Modern bards, like bards of old, Still confess the power of gold; Still 'tis Hymen's brightest charm; Still it points the warrior's arm. Still the senseless, and the sage, Men of every clime and age, Blushing maids and hoydens bold, Yield alike the palm to Gold. PUSHWELL. Gold, 'tis true, was once the rage, But, 'twas in a golden age. Brass is all the fashion now; DANDICULE. See, at Miser Griptight's gate, PUSHWELL. Hear the brainless demagogue, Wiser brutes did once before; When with the trees they ran to admire The music of the Orphean Lyre. See him next, profoundly great, Seated at the helm of state; The innate strength of native brass. DANDICULE. See the poor, industrious man, PUSHWELL. See, how modest merit lies, DANDICULE. See Miss Dumbey, come from school; See the young men, making at her; See her worthless husband bought. That wits, and sages, fop, and dunce, She has doffed her useless dress, See her sought, caressed, and courted; DANDICULE. Gold has made me what I am. All the rest is but a flam. The same voters, who support me; The same friends, who puff, and court me; PUSHWELL. But for brass, what had I been? A brazen charm, from which Truth's lance, The only place, where I can feel One lingering spot of diffidence; 9 With brass heeled boots stout, firm, and stable, Cease then; cease thy song to wage, I ask thee not for worth, or sense. A shame-proof mail of sturdy brass. PETTIFOG. Enough; enough. I know not which to praise. And Phoebus' self, were he to judge the strain, Let each take back his pledge, and, like twinbrother, Present a pewter medal to the other. THE RESULTS OF PHRENOLOGY. FROM THE MERRY TALES OF THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM." BY JAMES K. PAULDING. 1826. THE lecture with which Dr. Gallgotha commenced his course in Paris, was the same that frightened the sovereign princess and her court into fits; but I will do the ladies of Paris the justice to say that they stood the display of our phrenological specimens, like heroines; whether it be that the French women are naturally bolder than the German, or that a certain fashionable philosopher had in some degree prepared them for scientific horrors, by his exhibition of fossil remains. The thing took amazingly-there was something new in the idea of looking at the back of the head, instead of the face, to ascertain the peculiarities of human character, and novelty is indispensable to the existence of people who have exhausted all other pleasures. There were indeed some ladies belonging to the coteries of the old lecturers, who affected to laugh at the doctor's theory, but even they were effectually silenced by a discovery of my master, that the organ of tune was developed in the head of the famous composer Rossini, to such a degree that it had actually monopolized nearly the whole of his cerebellum. There was no resisting this proof, not only that Rossini was a great composer of tunes, but likewise that the doctor's science was infallible. The fiddler and the doctor accordingly were the two greatest men in Paris. The rage for cerebral developments became intense, and thenceforward every lady of the least pretensions to fashion or science procured a skull, marked and mapped confermably with the principles of the sublime science, which she placed on her toilet, in order that she might dress and study at the same time. Two or three of the most zealous female devotees actually fell in love with the doctor, being deeply smitten with his cerebral development. The fashionable gentlemen, whose sole business is to make love, began to grow jealous of Varus and his legions, and one or two ludicrous anecdotes occurred which set all Paris tittering. I will relate them, although I cannot vouch for their truth any farther than to say that every body believed them. A young nobleman was deeply enamored of a beautiful lady of high rank, and particularly jealous of one of his rivals who wore powder in his hair. He had been absent some weeks on military duty, and returning to town one evening, proceeded directly to the house of his mistress intending to surprise her with a visit. Finding a servant at the door, he inquired for the lady, and was told that she was so deeply engaged that she could see nobody. The jealousy of the lover was alarmed, and pushing |