"Then send me not, mine Uncle dear, oh! send me not I pray, Back through that Entry dark to-night, but round some other way! I will not be a truant boy, but good, and mind my book, For Heaven forfend that ever I foregather with Nell Cook!" The class was call'd at morning tide, and Master Tom was there; He looked askew, and did eschew both stool, and bench, and chair. He did not talk, he did not walk, the tear was in his eye, He had not e'en that sad resource, to sit him down and cry. Hence little boys may learn, when they from school go out to dine, They should not deal in rigmarole, but still be back by nine; For if when they've their great-coat on, they pause before they part, To tell a long and prosy tale, -perchance their own may smart. to escort the Archbishop M-- on one of his progresses, when he begged to have the honour of "attending his Grace as far as the Gallows." MORAL. -A few remarks to learned Clerks in country and in town Don't keep a pretty serving-maid, though clad in russet brown!- Don't let your Niece sing "Bobbing Joan!"-don't, with a merry eye, Hob-nob in Sack and Malvoisie, and don't eat too much pie! And oh! beware that Entry dark, -especially at night,And don't go there with Jenny Smith all by the pale moonlight! So bless the Queen and her Royal Weans, and the Prince whose hand she took, And bless us all, both great and small, and keep us from Nell Cook! Kind, good-hearted, gouty Uncle John! how well I remember all the kindness and affection which my mischievous propensities so ill repaid-his bright blue coat and resplendent gilt buttons-his "frosty pow" si bien poudré-his little quill-like pigtail!-Of all my praiseworthy actions-they were "like angel visits, few and far between"-the never-failing and munificent rewarder; of my naughty deeds-they were multitudinous as the sands of the sea-shore-the ever-ready palliator; my intercessor, and sometimes even my defender against punishment, "staying harsh justice in its mid career!"-Poor Uncle John! he will ever rank among the dearest of my NURSERY REMINISCENCES. I REMEMBER, I remember, Both my cheeks in kindliest mood; Grandmamma-a shrewd observer- I remember, I remember, On a wet and windy day, I remember Billy Hawkins Came, and with his pewter squirt Squibb'd my pantaloons and stockings, Till they were all over dirt ! To my mother for protection Pa cried, when he saw my garment, Then he caught me by the collar, Grandmamma, while yet I smarted, I remember, I remember, From that sad and solemn day, Never more in dark December And the moral which they taught, I POOR UNCLE JOHN ! "After life's fitful fever he sleeps well" in the old family vault in Denton chancel-and dear Aunt Fanny too!--the latter also "loo'd me weel," as the Scotch song has it, and since, at this moment, I am in a most soft and sentimental humour-(whisky toddy should ever be made by pouring the boiling fluid-hotter if possible-upon the thinnest lemon-peel, and thenbut everybody knows "what then")-I dedicate the following "True History" to my beloved AUNT FANNY. A LEGEND OF A SHIRT. "Virginibus, Puerisque canto."-Hor. "Old Maids, and Bachelors I chaunt to!"-T. I. I SING of a Shirt that never was new!! In the course of the year Eighteen hundred and two, Aunt Fanny began, Upon Grandmamma's plan, To make one for me, then her "dear little man." |