(His horns, it seems, are made t' unscrew;

So he has but to take them out of the socket, And-just as some fine husbands do

Conveniently clap them into his pocket.)

In short, he look'd extremely natty,

And ev'n contriv'd-to his own great wonder

By dint of sundry scents from Gattie,'
To keep the sulphurous hogo under.

And so my gentleman hoof'd about,

Unknown to all but a chosen few,

At White's and Crockford's, where, no doubt, He had many post obits falling due.

Alike a gamester and a wit,

At night he was seen with Crockford's crew, At morn with learned dames would sit,

So pass'd his time 'twixt black and blue.

Some wished to make him an M. P.,

But finding Wilks was also one, he Swore, in a rage, he'd be d-d if he Would ever sit in one house with Johnny.

At length, as secrets travel fast,

And devils, whether he or she, Are sure to be found out at last,

The affair got wind most rapidly.

The Press, the impartial Press, that snubs Alike a fiend's or an angel's capersMiss Paton's soon as Beelzebub's

Fired off a squib in the morning papers:

"We warn good men to keep aloof

From a grim old dandy seen about, 'With a fire-proof wig, and a cloven hoof Through a neat-cut Hoby smoking out."

Now, the Devil being a gentleman,

Who piques himself on well-bred dealings, You may guess, when o'er these lines he ran, How much they hurt and shock'd his feelings.

Away he posts to a man of law,

When, asking about the Bench, he heard That of all the Judges his own was Best. In vain defendant proffer'd proof,

That plaintiff's self was the Father of Evil, Brought Hoby forth, to swear to the hoof, And Stultz to speak to the tail of the Devil.

The jury (saints all snug and rich,

And readers of virtuous Sunday papers) Found for the plaintiff-on hearing which The Devil gave one of his loftiest capers.

For O, 'twas nuts to the Father of Lies (As this wily fiend is named in the Bible), To find it settled, by laws so wise, That the greater the truth, the worse the libel!

THOMAS MOORE

REPORT OF AN ADJUDGED CASE.

NOT TO BE FOUND IN ANY OF THE BOOKS.

Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose, The spectacles set them unhappily wrong; The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,.

To which the said spectacles ought to belong.

So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the

cause

With a great deal of skill and a wig full of

learning;

While Chief Baron Ear sat to balance the

laws,

So famed for his talent of nicely discerning.

In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear, And your lordship, he said, will undoubted

ly find,

That the Nose has had spectacles always in

wear,

Which amounts to possession time out of mind.

OWEN KERR VS. OWEN KERR.

If the strife in this case is extremely perverse, 'Tis because 'tis between a couple of " Kerrs." Each Owen is owin'-but here lies the bother; To determine which Owen is owin' the other. Each Owen swears Owen to Owen is owin', And each alike certain, dog-matic, and knowin';

But 'tis hoped that the jury will not be deterred

From finding which "Kerr " the true debt has incurred;

Thus settling which Owen by owin' has failed, And that justice 'twixt curs has not been curtailed.

-From The Western Jurist.

M'VEY VS. HENNIGAN.
Tune-"JUDY CALLAGHAN."

There lived, as I am tould,
In Stirling's noble city,

Now your boar's come in again.

But Tony's boar, worse luck,
He had a heart so darin',
Bedad! he run amuck

At this bould son av Erin.
So Pat was forced to fly,

And moighty quick he went, too,
While Piggy from his thigh
Tore out a small memento.
Says M'Vey-
Darlint Mr. Hennigan,

You must pay

Now your boar's come in again.

Then Pathrick to the Coort

He dhragged the porker's masther, And swore that such a hurt

Bank notes alone could plasther.

The stye was insecure,

The boar was most fherocious,

And Tony's conduct, shure,

Was blackguard and athrocious.
Says M'Vey-

Darlint Mr. Hennigan,

You must pay

Now your boar's come in again.

Me piggy has, says Tone,

The swatest, best of naytures, And Pat, ye should have known

The ways av them dumb craytures;

His timper's asily stirred,

When takin' av his airin',

Nor can he stand a worrd

Av cursin' or ov swearin'!
Says M'Vey-

Darlint Mr. Hennigan,
You must pay

Now your boar's come in again.

Upon the case there sat

Two sheriffs, larned brothers, One gave his vote for Pat,

And Tony got the other's.

And so when months had passed

In strife and opposition,

The case was brought at last
Before the Coort av Session.
Says M'Vey-

Darlint Mr. Hennigan,
You must pay

Now your boar's come in again.

The Lords in gowns so grand,
Were tould the dismal story
How piggy, though so bland,

Made Pathrick's groin so gory;

They said 'twas not polite

For Pat to use such langwidge,

Still Piggy had no right

To ate a raw ham sandwich!

A lawyer of Brittany, once on a time,
When business was flagging at home,
Was sent as a legate to Italy's clime,
To confer with the Father at Rome.

And what was the message the minister brought?

To the Pope he preferred a complaint That each other profession a Patron had got, While the Lawyers had never a Saint!

"Very true," said his Holiness,-smiling to find

An attorney so civil and pleasant,— "But my very last Saint is already assigned, And I can't make a new one at present.

"To choose from the Bar it were fittest, I

think;

Perhaps you've a man in your eye"And his Holiness here gave a mischievous wink To a Cardinal sitting near by.

But the lawyer replied, in a lawyer-like way, "I know what is modest, I hope;

I didn't come hither, allow me to say,
To proffer advice to the Pope!"

"Very well," said his Holiness, "then we will do

The best that may fairly be done;

It don't seem exactly the thing, it is true,
That the Law should be Saint-less alone.

"To treat your profession as well as I can,
And leave you no cause of complaint,

I propose, as the only quite feasible plan,
To give you a second-hand Saint.

"To the neighboring church you will present

"Then (saying more aves) so groping around, And, touching one object alone,

Except that 't was Religion's cloak
The gentleman, who cracked them, wore.

found,

For the first that you touch is your own."

'The lawyer did as his Holiness said,

Without an omission or flaw;
Then, taking the bandages off from his head,
What do you think he saw?

There was St. Michael (figured in paint)
Subduing the Father of Evil;

And the lawyer, exclaiming "Be thou our
Saint!"

Was touching the form of the DEVIL!

JOHN G. SAXE.

CHURCH AND STATE.

When Royalty was young and bold,
Ere, touch'd by Time, he had become-
If't is not civil to say old-

At least, a ci-devant jeune homme.

One evening, on some wild pursuit, Driving along, he chanced to see Religion, passing by on foot,

And took him in his vis-à-vis.

This said religion was a friar,

The humblest and the best of men, Who ne'er had notion or desire

Of riding in a coach till then.

"I say "-quoth Royalty, who rather Enjoy'd a masquerading joke"I say, suppose, my good old father, You lend me, for a while, your cloak."

The friar consented-little knew

What tricks the youth had in his head; Besides, was rather tempted, too,

By a laced coat he got in stead.

Away ran Royalty, slap-dash,

Scampering like mad about the town; Broke windows-shiver'd lamps to smash, And knock'd whole scores of watchmen down.

By the laced coat, grew frisky tooLook'd big-his former habits spurn'd— And storm'd about as great men do

Dealt much in pompous oaths and curses-
Said "Damn you," often, or as bad-
Laid claim to other people's purses—
In short, grew either knave or mad.

As work like this was unbefitting,

And flesh and blood no longer bore it, The Court of Common Sense then sitting, Summon'd the culprits both before it;

Where, after hours in wrangling spent

(As courts must wrangle to decide well), Religion to St. Luke's was sent,

And Royalty pack'd off to Bridewell:

With this proviso-Should they be Restored in due time to their senses, They both must give security

In future, against such offenses

Religion ne'er to lend his cloak.

Seeing what dreadful work it leads to; And Royalty to crack his joke

But not to crack poor people's heads, too. THOMAS MOORE

LYING.

I do confess, in many a sigh,

My lips have breath'd you many a lie,
And who, with such delights in view,
Would lose them for a lie or two?
Nay-look not thus, with brow reproving:
Lies are, my dear, the soul of loving!
If half we tell the girls were true,

If half we swear to think and do,
Were aught but lying's bright illusion,
The world would be in strange confusion!
If ladies' eyes were, every one,
As lovers swear, a radiant sun,
Astronomy should leave the skies,
To learn her lore in ladies' eyes!
Oh no!-believe me, lovely girl,

broke,

Learn of the "why" or the "wherefore,"

Your neck to snow, your eyes to fire, Your yellow locks to golden wire,

Then, only then, can heaven decree,
That you should live for only me,
Or I for you, as night and morn,
We've swearing kiss'd, and kissing sworn.
And now, my gentle hints to clear,
For once, I'll tell you truth, my dear!
Whenever you may chance to meet
A loving youth, whose love is sweet,
Long as you're false and he believes you,
Long as you trust and he deceives you,
So long the blissful bond endures;
And while he lies, his heart is yours:
But, oh! you've wholly lost the youth
The instant that he tells you truth!

THOMAS MOORE.

THE MILLENNIUM.

BUGGESTED BY THE LATE WORK OF THE REVEREND MR. IRV-NG "ON PROPHECY."

Millennium at hand!-I'm delighted to hear it

As matters both public and private now go, With multitudes round us, all starving or near it,

A good rich millennium will come à propos.

Only think, Master Fred, what delight to behold,

Instead of thy bankrupt old City of Rags, A bran-new Jerusalem, built all of gold, Sound bullion throughout, from the roof to the flags

Which so long has been promised by prophets like thee,

And so often has fail'd, we began to despair.

There was Whiston, who learnedly took Prince Eugene

For the man who must bring the Millennium

about;

There's Faber, whose pious predictions have been

All belied, ere his book's first edition was out;

There was Counsellor Dobbs, too, an Irish M.P., Who discoursed on the subject with signal

eclat,

And, each day of his life, sat expecting to see A millennium break out in the town of Armagh!

There was also-but why should I burden my lay

With your Brotherses, Southcotes, and names less deserving,

When all past Millenniums henceforth must give way

To the last new Millennium of Orator Irv-ng?

Go on, mighty man-doom them all to the

shelf

And, when next thou with prophecy troublest thy sconce,

Oh, forget not, I pray thee, to prove that thyself

abound

A celestial Cocaigne, on whose butterfly

shelves

We may swear the best things of this world

will be found,

As your saints seldom fail to take care of themselves!

Thanks, reverend expounder of raptures elysian,

Divine Squintifobus, who, placed within reach

Of two opposite worlds by a twist of your vision Can cast, at the same time, a sly look at

each ;

at once! 1

THOMAS MOORE.

WHEN Thackeray paid his first visit to Boston it was known of him that he was very fond of oysters, and at a dinner given in his honor, the largest oyster that the place provided-quite an abnormal oyster in point of size-was placed before him. He said himself that he turned pale when he saw it, such a monster was it, but that he ate it in silence. His host asked him how he felt afterward. "Profoundly thankful!" said Thackeray con

us, that we

May, even in our times a jubilee share,

a baby."

1 Rev. Mr. Irving squinted badly.