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That he ran down a wherry with twenty* on board, But thank heav'n the poor fellows have got safely shor'd.

* The account says ouly seven men, and that the cargo was worth £700.

B

When I asked him the news he appeared as half drunk ;

“A ship,” said he, “'s just struck by Lightning,† and sunk,"

But I pardon'd the pun, as I knew the old fellow Was fond of the whisky-was merry and mellow. 'Twas the first that e'er brightened his dullness no

doubt,

And the death of the

brought this giggling out.

With regard to the landing, I've made up my mind; Appearances must be consulted I find.

But go I'm determin'd, for sweet Lady C→→
Is now three days anxiously waiting for me,
So I'll do it by steam in the privatest way.

Mother Sid recommends me to lock myself in At the Lodge in the Park, and then sail out again When the funeral's over-to land in full style, Thus let the crow'd see my first step on their Isle. Though poor Sid's not an Irishman, yet I don't

wonder

At this, for you know he's au fait at a blunder.

+ Lord S. sailed in the Lightning Steam Packet.

The day after to-morrow expect me-till then I'll be literally dying with ennui, Ben.

Enclos'd is a note for my dear lady C.

Take it to her yourself, and-don't kiss her for me.
Now adieu, for I'm bilious, though not very ill;
I wish you were here just to hand me a pill.

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