But then thy master shall of cares complain,
Care after care, a long connected train;
His sons for farms shall ask a large supply,
For farmers' sons each gentle miss shall sigh;
Thy mistress, reasoning well of life's decay,
Shall ask a chaise, and hardly brook delay;
The smart young Cornet, who, with so much grace,
Rode in the ranks and betted at the race,
While the vexed parent rails at deed so rash,
Shall d-n his luck, and stretch his hand for cash.
Sad troubles, Gerard! now pertain to thee,
When thy rich master seems from trouble free;
But 't is one fate at different times assigned,
And thou shalt lose the cares that he must find.
DIFFERENT KINDS OF DISAPPOINTMENT IN THE VILLAGE;
DAWKINS; DITCHEM.

'Ah!' quoth our village grocer, rich and old,
'Would I might one such cause for care behold!'
To whom his friend, Mine greater bliss would be
Would heaven take those my spouse assigns to me.'
Aged were both; that Dawkins, Ditchem this,
Who much of marriage thought, and much amiss;
Both would delay the one, till, riches gained,
The son he wished might be to honor trained;
His friend, lest fierce intruding heirs should come,
To waste his hoard, and vex his quiet home.

SKETCH OF DAWKINS.-SKETCH OF DITCHEM.

Dawkins, a dealer once, on burthened back Bore his whole substance in a pedler's pack; To dames discreet, the duties yet unpaid, His stores of lace and hyson he conveyed : When thus enriched, he chose at home to stop, And fleece his neighbors in a new-built shop; Then wooed a spinster blithe, and hoped, when wed, For love's fair favors and a fruitful bed.

Not so his friend; -on widow fair and staid He fixed his eye, but he was much afraid; Yet wooed; while she his hair of silver hue Demurely noticed, and her eye withdrew. Doubtful he paused. Ah! were I sure,' he cried, 'No craving children would my gains divide; Fair as she is, I would my widow take,

And live more largely for my partner's sake.' [past, With such their views, some thoughtful years they And, hoping, dreading, they were bound at last. And what their fate? Observe them as they go, Comparing fear with fear, and woe with woe.

DAWKINS'S PLAINT.

Ah! Humphrey ! Humphrey ! Envy in my breast Sickens to see thee in thy children blest; They are thy joys, while I go grieving home, To a sad spouse and our eternal gloom; We look despondency; no infant near, To bless the eye, or win the parent's ear; Our sudden heats and quarrels to allay, And soothe the petty sufferings of the day: Alike our want, yet both the want reprove. Where are, I cry, these pledges of our love? When she, like Jacob's wife, makes fierce reply, Yet fond-"O! give me children, or I die;"

And I return, still childless doomed to live,
Like the vexed patriarch," Are they mine to give?"
Ah! much I envy thee thy boys, who ride

On poplar branch, and canter at thy side; [know,
And girls, whose cheeks thy chin's fierce fondness
And with fresh beauty at the contact glow.'

DITCHEM'S REPLY. HIS THICK-COMING MISERIES.

'O, simple friend,' said Humphrey, 'wouldst thou A father's pleasure, by a husband's pain? [gain Alas! what pleasure, when some vigorous boy Should swell thy pride, some rosy girl thy joy? Is it to doubt, who grafted this sweet flower, Or whence arose that spirit and that power?

'Four years I've wed; not one has past in vain :
Behold the fifth! Behold, a babe again!
My wife's gay friends the unwelcome imp admire,
And fill the room with gratulation dire;
While I in silence sate, revolving all!
That influence ancient men, or that befall; [came;
A gay pert guest-Heaven knows his business
A glorious boy, he cried, and what the name?
Angry I growled. "My spirit cease to tease!
Name it yourselves, Cain, Judas, if you please!

His father's give him, should you that explore,
The devil's or yours: " I said, and sought the door.
My tender partner not a word or sigh
Gives to my wrath, not to my speech reply;
But takes her comforts, triumphs in my pain,
And looks undaunted for a birth again.'

DISCONTENT UNIVERSAL.

-a name:

Heirs thus denied afflict the pining heart, And thus afforded jealous pangs impart ; Το prove these arrows of the giant's hand Are not for man to stay or to command. Then with their infants three the parents came, And each assigned-'t was all they hadNames of no mark or price; of them not one Shall court our view on the sepulchral stone; Or stop the clerk, the engraven scrolls to spell, Or keep the sexton from the sermon-bell. NINTH BAPTISM.ORPHAN GIRL; GOOD SCHOOL-MISTRESS. An orphan girl succeeds: ere she was born, Her father died; her mother, on that morn; The pious mistress of the school sustains Her parents' part, nor their affection feigns, But pitying feels; with due respect and joy, I trace the matron at her loved employ ; What time the striplings, wearied ev'n with play, Part at the closing of the Summer's day, [way. And each by different path returns the well-known Then I behold her at her cottage door, Frugal of light ;- her Bible laid before, When on her double duty she proceeds, Of time as frugal; knitting as she reads: Her idle neighbors, who approach to tell Of news or nothing, she by looks compels To hear reluctant, while the lads who pass In pure respect walk silent on the grass; Then sinks the day, but not to rest she goes, Till solemn prayers the daily duties close.

But I digress, and, lo! an infant train Appear, and call me to my task again.

THE PEDANTIC GARDENER AND HIS BABE.ROMANTIC AND LEARNED NAMES OF BABES AND FLOWERS.

'Why Lonicera wilt thou name thy child?'
I asked the gardener's wife, in accent mild.
'We have a right,' replied the sturdy dame ;
And Lonicera was the infant's name.

If next a son shall yield our gardener joy,
Then Hyacinthus shall be that fair boy;
And if a girl, they will at length agree
That Belladonna that fair maid shall be.

High-sounding words our worthy gardener gets,
And at his club to wondering swains repeats :
He then of Rhus and Rhododendron speaks,
And Allium calls his onions and his leeks;
Nor weeds are now, for whence arose the weed
Scarce plants, fair herbs and curious flowers, proceed;
Where cuckoo-pints and dandelions sprung-
Gross names had they, our plainer sires among ;
There arums, there leontodons, we view,
And artemisia grows where wormwood grew.

But though no weed exists, his garden round, From 'rumex' strong our gardener frees his ground, Takes soft senecio' from the yielding land, And grasps the armed urtica' in his hand.

DARWIN AND PETER PRATT.LOVES OF THE PLANTS. SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY.

Not Darwin's self had more delight to sing Of floral courtship, in the awakened Spring, Than Peter Pratt, who simpering loves to tell How rise the stamens as the pistils swell; How bend and curl their moist top to the spouse, And give and take the vegetable vows; How those esteemed of old but tips and chives Are tender husbands and obedient wives; Who live and love within the sacred bower, That bridal bed the vulgar term a flower.

Hear Peter proudly, to some humble friend, A wondrous secret in his science lend. 'Would you advance the nuptial hour, and bring The fruit of Autumn with the flowers of Spring; View that light frame where cucumis lies spread, And trace the husbands in their golden bed, Three turgid anthers; - then no more delay, But haste and bear them to their spouse away; In a like bed you'll see that spouse reclined, O! haste and bear them, they like love are blind, — Then by thyself, from prying glance secure, Twirl the full tip and make the marriage sure; A long-abiding race the deed shall pay, Nor one unblest abortion pine away.'

To admire their friend's discourse our swains agree,
And call it science, and philosophy.

HOW TO STUDY BOTANY, NATURAL HISTORY, ETC.; NAMES.
'Tis good, 't is pleasant, through the advancing
To see unnumbered, growing forms appear; [year,
What leafy-like from earth's broad bosom rise!
What insect myriads seek the summer skies!
What scaly tribes in every streamlet move!

What plumy people sing in every grove!

All with the year awaked, to life's great duty, Love.
Then names are good, for how, without their aid
Is knowledge gained by man, to man conveyed?
But from that source shall all our pleasure flow?
Shall all our knowledge be those names to know?
Then he with memory blest shall bear away
The palm from Grew, and Middleton, and Ray;
No! let us rather seek in grove and field
What food for wonder, what for use, they yield;
Some just remark from Nature's people bring,
And some new source of homage for her King.

PETTY AMBITIONS.

Pride lives with all; strange names our rustics To helpless infants, that their own may live; [give Pleased to be known, some notice they will claim, And find some by-way to the house of fame.

The straightest furrow lifts the ploughman's heart, Or skill allowed him in the bruiser's art; The bowl that beats the greater number down Of tottering nine-pins, gives to fame the clown ; Or, foiled in these, he opes his ample jaws, And lets a frog leap down, to gain applause ; Or grins for hours, or tipples for a week, Or challenges a well-pinched pig to squeak; Some idle deed, some child's preposterous name, Shall make him known, and give his folly fame.

NAMING OF A PARISH INFANT. LITTLE RICHARD MONDAY
To name an infant met our village sires,
Assembled all, as such event requires ;
Frequent and full the rural sages sate,
And speakers many urged the long debate.
Some hardened knaves, who roved the country round,
Had left a babe within the parish bound.
First, of the fact they questioned. Was it true?'
The child was brought. What then remained to do?'
'Was 't dead or living?' This was fairly proved;
'Twas pinched, it roared, and every doubt removed.
Then by what name the unwelcome guest to call
Was long a question, and it posed them all;
For he who lent a name to babe unknown,
Censorious men might take it for his own.
They looked about, they asked the name of all,
And not one Richard answered to the call;
Next they inquired the day when, passing by,
The unlucky peasant heard the stranger's cry.
This known, how food and raiment they might give,
Was next debated - for the rogue would live.
At last, with all their words and work content,
Back to their homes the prudent vestry went,
And Richard Monday's to the work-house sent.

EDUCATION OF A PARISH FOUNDLING HIS ABJECT CONDI-
TION, AND TEMPER; HE ELOPES.
There was he pinched and pitied, thumped and fed,
And duly took his beatings and his bread;
Patient in all control, in all abuse,

He found contempt and kicking have their use:
Sad, silent, supple; bending to the blow,

A slave of slaves, the lowest of the low;
His pliant soul gave way to all things base,

He knew no shame, he dreaded no disgrace;
It seemed, so well his passions he suppressed,
No feeling stirred his ever-torpid breast.
Him might the meanest pauper bruise and cheat,
He was a foot-stool for the beggar's feet;
His were the legs that ran at all commands;
They used, on all occasions, Richard's hands;
His very soul was not his own; he stole
As others ordered, and without a dole:
In all disputes, on either part he lied,

And freely pledged his oath on either side;
In all rebellions, Richard joined the rest,
In all detections, Richard first confessed;
Yet, though disgraced, he watched his time so well,
He rose in favor, when in fame he fell ;
Base was his usage, vile his whole employ,
And all despised and feed the pliant boy :
At length, 'Tis time he should abroad be sent,'
Was whispered near him, and abroad he went;
One morn they called him, Richard answered not,
They doomed him hanging, and in time forgot,
Yet missed him long, as each, throughout the clan,
Found he had better spared a better man.'

SUCCESS OF SELFISH CUNNING. INTENSE SELFISHNESS OF SIR R. MONDAY; HIS WEALTH AND WORTH. HIS LEGACY.

Now Richard's talents for the world were fit;
He'd no small cunning, and had some small wit;
Had that calm look that seemed to all assent,
And that complacent speech that nothing meant ;
He'd but one care, and that he strove to hide,
How best for Richard Monday to provide.
Steel through opposing plates the magnet draws,
And steely atoms culls from dust and straws;
And thus our hero, to his interest true,
Gold through all bars and from each trifle drew;
But still more sure about the world to go,
This Fortune's child had neither friend nor foe.
Long lost to us, at last our man we trace,-
Sir Richard Monday died at Monday-place;
His lady's worth, his daughter's, we peruse,
And find his grandsons all as rich as Jews;
He gave reforming charities a sum,

And bought the blessings of the blind and dumb;
Bequeathed to missions money from the stocks,
And Bibles issued from his private box;
But to his native place, severely just,
He left a pittance bound in rigid trust;
Two paltry pounds on every quarter's-day
(At church produced), for forty loaves should pay ;
A stinted gift, that to the parish shows
He kept in mind their bounty and their blows.
BARNABY, THE FARMER'S BUTT.

To farmers three the year has given a son,
Finch on the moor, and French, and Middleton ;
Twice in this year, a female Giles I see,
A Spalding once, and once a Barnaby ;
An humble man is he, and when they meet,
Our farmers find him on a distant scat;
There for their wit he serves a constant theme;
They praise his dairy, they extol his team;

They ask the price of each unrivalled steed,
And whence his sheep, that admirable breed ;
His thriving arts they beg he would explain,
And where he puts the money he must gain :-
They have their daughters, but they fear their friend
Would think his sons too much would condescend;
They have their sons who would their fortunes try,
But fear his daughters will their suit deny.
So runs the joke, while James, with sigh profound,
And face of care, keeps looking on the ground;
These looks and sighs provoke the insult more,
for Barnaby is poor.

And point the jest

THE VILLAGE INFIDEL'S LIFE, PRINCIPLES, AND FATE. — CONCLUSION.

Last in my List, five untaught lads appear;
Their father dead, Compassion sent them here:
For still that rustic infidel denied

To have their names with solemn rite applied:
His, a lone house, by Dead-man's Dyke-way stood;
And his, a nightly haunt in Lonely-wood.
Each village inn has heard the ruffian boast
That he believed in neither God nor ghost;
That when the sod upon the sinner pressed,
He, like the saint, had everlasting rest;
That never priest believed his doctrines true,
But would, for profit, own himself a Jew,
Or worship wood and stone, as honest heathen do ;
That fools alone on future worlds rely,
And all who die for faith deserve to die.'

These maxims part the attorney's clerk professed,
His own transcendant genius found the rest.
Our pious matrons heard, and much amazed
Gazed on the man, and trembled as they gazed;
And now his face explored, and now his feet,
Man's dreaded Foe, in this bad man, to meet :
But him our drunkards as their champion raised,
Their bishop called, and as their hero praised;
Though most, when sober, and the rest, when sick,
Had little question whence his bishopric.
But he, triumphant spirit! all things dared,
He poached the wood and on the warren snared ;
"T was his at cards each novice to trepan,
And call the wants of rogues the rights of man;
Wild as the winds he let his offspring rove,
And deemed the marriage bond the bane of love.
What age and sickness for a man so bold
Had done, we know not; -none beheld him old:
By night, as business urged, he sought the wood,
The ditch was deep, the rain had caused a flood;
The foot-bridge failed, he plunged beneath the deep,
And slept, if truth were his, the eternal sleep. [sail,
These have we named; on life's rough sea they
With many a prosperous, many an adverse gale;
Where passions soon, like powerful winds, will rage,
While wearied Prudence with their strength engage;
Then each, in aid, shall some companion ask
For help or comfort in the tedious task;
And what that help, what joys from union flow,
What good or ill, we next prepare to show;
And row, meantime, our weary bark ashore,
As Spencer his, but not with Spencer's oar.

LLOYD'S COUNTRY BOX."

THE wealthy cit, grown old in trade,
Now wishes for the rural shade,
And buckles to his one-horse chair
Old Dobbin or the foundered mare;
While, wedged in closely by his side,
Sits Madam, his unwieldy bride,
With Jacky on a stool before 'em,
And out they jog in due decorum.
Scarce past the turnpike half a mile,
How all the country seems to smile!
And as they slowly jog together,

The cit commends the road and weather,
While Madam dotes upon the trees,
And longs for every house she sees;
Admires its views, its situation,
And thus she opens her oration:

'What signify the loads of wealth, Without that richest jewel, health' Excuse the fondness of a wife, Who dotes upon your precious life! Such ceaseless toil, such constant care, Is more than human strength can bear! One observe it in your face may Indeed, my dear, you break apace : And nothing can your health repair, But exercise and country air; Sir Traffic has a house, you know, About a mile from Cheney-Row; He's a good man, indeed 't is true, But not so "warm," my dear, as you : And folks are always apt to sneerOne would not be out-done, my dear!' Sir Traffic's name, so well applied, Awaked his brother-merchant's pride, And Thrifty, who had all his life Paid utmost deference to his wife, Confessed her argument had reason, And by th' approaching summer season Draws a few hundreds from the stocks, And purchases his country-box. Some three or four miles out of town (An hour's ride will bring you down), He fixes on his choice abode, Not half a furlong from the road: And so convenient does it lay, The stages pass it every day: And then so snug, so mighty pretty, To have a house so near the city! Take but your places at the Boar, You're set down at the very door.

Well, then, suppose them fixed at last, White-washing, painting, scrubbing past, Hugging themselves in ease and clover, With all the fuss of moving over; Lo a new heap of whims are bred, And wanton in my lady's head.

'Well, to be sure it must be owned,
It is a charming spot of ground;
So sweet a distance for a ride,
And all about so countryfied!
"Twould come but to a trifling price
To make it quite a paradise.

I cannot bear those nasty rails,
Those ugly, broken, mouldy pales:
Suppose, my dear, instead of these,
We build a railing, all Chinese :
Although one hates to be exposed,
"T is dismal to be thus enclosed;
One hardly any object sees -

I wish you'd fell those odious trees.
Objects continual passing by
Were something to amuse the eye;
But to be pent within the walls
One might as well be at St. Paul's.
Our house beholders would adore,
Was there a level lawn before,
Nothing its views to incommode,
But quite laid open to the road!
While every traveller in amaze
Should on our little mansion gaze,
And, pointing to the choice retreat,
Cry, that's Sir Thrifty's country-seat.'
No doubt her arguments prevail,
For Madam's taste can never fail.
Blest age! when all men may procure
The title of a connoisseur;
When noble and ignoble herd
Are governed by a single word;
Though, like the royal German dames,
It bears an hundred Christian names;
As genius, fancy, judgment, goût,
Whim, caprice, jè-ne-scai-quoi, virtù ;
Which appellations all describe
Taste, and the modern tasteful tribe.

Now, bricklayers, carpenters, and joiners,
With Chinese artists and designers,
Produce their schemes of alteration,
To work this wondrous reformation.
The useful dome, which secret stood,
Embosomed in the yew-tree's wood,
The traveller with amazement sees
A temple, Gothic, or Chinese,