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Not fit to scrape a hog!'
Hodge sought the fellow-found him-and begun— 'P'rhaps, Master Razor-rogue! to you tis fun That people flay themselves out of their lives.
You rascal! for an hour have I been grubbing, Giving my crying whiskers here a scrubbing With razors just like oyster-knives.
Sirrah! I tell you, you're a knave,
To cry up razors that can't shave.'
'Friend,' quoth the razor man, 'I'm not a knave: As for the razors you have bought,— Upon my soul, I never thought
That they would shave.'
'Not think they'd shave?' quoth Hodge with wond'ring eyes,
And voice not much unlike an Indian yell,
'What were they made for, then, you dog?' he cries. 'Made!' quoth the fellow, with a smile to sell.'
REPORT OF AN ADJUDGED CASE, NOT TO BE FOUND IN
ANY OF THE BOOKS.- -Cowper.
Between Nose and Eyes, a strange contest arose,
So the Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning;
While chief baron Ears, set to balance the laws,
In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear,
And your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find, That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear, Which amounts to possession time out of mind.
Then, holding the spectacles up to the courtYour lordship observes they are made with straddle,
As wide as the ridge of the Nose is; in short,
Again, would your lordship a moment suppose
('Tis a case that has happen'd, and may be again) That the visage or countenance had not a Nose,
Pray who would or who could wear spectacles then?
On the whole it appears, and my argument shows, With a reasoning the court will never condemn, That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose, And the Nose was as plainly intended for them.
Then shifting his sides, as a lawyer knows how,
So his lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tone,
THE MODEST RETORT.
A supercilious nabob of the east,
Haught, being great, and purse-proud, being rich,
A govern r. or general, at the least,
I have forgotten which,
Had in his family an humble youth,
Who went from England in his patron's suit,
An unassuming boy, and in truth
A lad of decent parts, and good repute.
This youth had sense and spirit;
But yet, with all his sense,
Obscured his merit.
One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine,
To crack a joke upon his secretary.
"Young man," he said "by what art, craft, or trade Did your good father gain a livelihood?" "He was a Saddler, sir," Modestus said, "And in his time was reckoned good." "A Saddler, eh! and taught you Greek,
Instead of teaching you to sew: Pray, why did not your father make A Saddler, sir, of you?"
Each parasite, then, as in duty bound,
The joke applauded, and the laugh went round.
Said, (craving pardon, if too free he made) "Sir by your leave, I fain would know Your father's trade."
My father's trade! by Heaven, that's too bad!
My father's trade? why, blockhead, are you mad? My father, sir, did never stoop so low
He was a gentleman, I'd have you know.”
"Excuse the liberty I take,"
Modestus said, with archness on his brow,
ΤΟ THE MUMMY IN BELZONI'S EXHIBITION, LONDON.—-New Monthly Magazine.
And thou hast walked about (how strange a story!) In Thebes' streets, three thousand years ago, When the Memnonium was in all its glory,
And time had not begun to overthrow
Speak! for thou long enough has acted dummy,
Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures,
Tell us for doubtless thou canst recollect,
To whom should we assign the sphinx's fame?
Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect
Of either Pyramid that bears his name? Is Pompey's pillar really a misnomer ? Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer?
Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidden.
By oath to tell the mysteries of thy trade; Then say, what secret melody was hidden
In Memnon's statue which at sunrise played ? Perhaps thou wert a Priest—if so, my struggles Are vain,-Egyptian priests ne'er owned their juggles.
Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat,
Has bob-a-nobb'd with Pharaoh glass to glass ;
Or doff'd thine own to let Queen Dido pass,
I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed,
Since first thy form was in this box extended,
We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations ;
The Roman empire has begun and ended;
New works have risen-we have lost old nations, And courtly kings have into dust been humbled, While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled.
Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head,