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Advantage of what brought him grist, he
Marking, with paw upon his mazzard,
Or rattling in a box the dice,
Which seem'd as if a grudge they bore To Stubbs: for often in a trice,
Down on the nail he was compell'd to pay
All that his hammer brought him in the day,
Thus, like a male Penelope, our wight,
He was beset by clamorous brutes,
One Mr. Snipps, the tailor, had the longest
And naturally thought he had the strongest
But debts of honour must be paid,
From month to month throughout the year,
Or flatteries, compliments, and pledges.
He squeezed his hand, and swore to pay.
"But when?"—" Next month.-You may depend on't,
You're a kind soul, I know you are, Snipps."
"Ay, so you said six months ago;
But such fine words, I'd have you know,
Butter no parsnips."
This said, he bade his lawyer draw
A special writ,
Serve it on Stubbs, and follow it
This lawyer was a friend of Stubbs;
In a civic way,
Where business interposes not its rubs;
And Alexander cuts Hephæstion ;
But when our man of law must sue his friends,
So when he meets our Auctioneer,
Into his outstretch'd hand he thrust his
Writ, and said, with friendly leer,
"My dear, dear Stubbs, pray do me justice; In this affair I hope you see
No censure can attach to me
Don't entertain a wrong impression;
I'm doing now what must be done
In my profession.”
"And so am I," Stubbs answer'd with a frown,
So crying "Going-going-going-gone!"
The Gouty Merchant and the Stranger.
IN Broad-street Buildings, on a winter night,
While t'other held beneath his nose
The Public Ledger, in whose columns grubbing, He noted all the sales of hops,
Ships, shops, and slops,
Gum, galls and groceries, ginger, gin,
Tar, tallow, turmerick, turpentine, and tin.
When, lo! a decent personage in black
Enter'd, and most politely said,
"Your footman, Sir, has gone his nightly track,
To the King's Head,
And left your door ajar, which I
Observed in passing by,
And thought it neighbourly to give you notice."
"Ten thousand thanks-how very few get,
In time of danger,
Such kind attentions from a stranger! Assuredly that fellow's throat is Doom'd to a final drop at Newgate. He knows, too, the unconscionable elf, That there's no soul at home except myself."
"Indeed!" replied the stranger, looking grave; "Then he's a double knave.
He knows that rogues and thieves by scores
And see how easily might one
Of these domestic foes,
Even beneath your very nose,
Perform his knavish tricks,—
Enter your room as I have done,
Blow out your candles-thus-and thus,
And walk off-thus."
So said so done he made no more remark,
But march'd off with his prize,
THE CAVE OF THE ENCHANTRESS.
Che trar di sotto a i chiusi marmi
Può corpo estinto, e far, che spiri, e senta :
Fin nella reggia sua Pluto spaventa,
PASSING through Calabria last year, on my return from Greece, I found myself near the site of the ancient Apollonia, in whose neighbourhood, according to Plutarch, a sleeping Satyr was once caught, and brought to Sylla as he returned from the Mithridatic war; but as his inarticulate voice, partaking both of the neighing of a horse and the bleating of a goat, prevented him from making any intelligible answer to interrogatories, the Roman spurned from him a creature which seemed to partake more of the bestial than of the human nature. As caves and grottos seldom
disappear, I thought it not unlikely that the one in which this monster was stated to have been discovered might still exist; and on making inquiry of the peasants, I was informed that there was a large subterranean opening into the rocky earth at about four miles distance, which was reported to be of considerable extent, but that no good Christian cared to visit it, because it was haunted by an enchantress, or modern Witch of Endor, who possessed the terrific power of raising up the phantoms of whatever dead persons might be named by her visitants. This superstitious legend, as I deemed it, only making me more anxious to investigate the spot, I procured a guide, with whom I traversed a singularly wild and romantic country in the direction of the sea, much musing whether the being I was to encounter would present herself to me under the appearance of some ancient Pythoness, of the Cumaan Sibyl, the Nymph Egeria, whose subterranean mode of residence she imitated, Circe, Medea, or any other prophetess of the classic ages; whether she would prefer the semblance of Alcina, Melissa, Armida, the fairy Morgana, or some of those enchantresses who figured in the days of chivalry; or whether, finally, she might assume the guise of the Weird Sisters, and so "hold the word of promise to my ear to break it to my hope," or condescend to personate a vulgar witch, and resemble some of those numerous old hags who were condemned to the stake to confirm the treatise upon witchcraft and demonology, written by his most learned and sacred Majesty King James the First. In the midst of these meditations we reached