But there-it appears, His crocodile tears, His "Ohs! and his "Ahs!" his "Oh Laws!" and " "Oh dears!" Were all thought sincere,-so in painting his Victim His features and phiz awry Shew'd so much And so like a dragon he, Look'd in his agony, That the foil'd Painter buried-despairing to gain a Good likeness-his face in a printed Bandana. -Such a veil is best thrown o'er one's face when one's hurt By some grief which no power can repair or avert!-Such a veil I shall throw o'er Aunt Fan-and My Shirt! MORAL. And now for some practical hints from the story For, if rather too gay, I can venture to say, First of all-Don't put off till to-morrow what may, And the "Future," how brightly soe'er by Hope's dupe colour'd! Ne'er may afford You a lost chance restored, Till both you, and YOUR SHIRT, are grown old and. pea-soup-colour'd! I would also desire You to guard your attire, But beware!-and take care, When all things How you hang your Shirt over the back of your chair! -"There's many a slip 'Twixt the cup and the Be this excellent proverb, then, well understood, THE WOOD!!! It is to my excellent and erudite friend, Simpkinson, that I am indebted for his graphic description of the well-known chalk-pit between Acol and Minster in the Isle of Thanet, known by the name of the "Smuggler's Leap." The substance of the true history attached to it he picked up while visiting that admirable institution, the "Sea-bathing Infirmary," of which he is a "Life Governor," and enjoying his otium cum dignitate last summer at the least aristocratic of all possible wateringplaces. Before I proceed to detail it, however, I cannot, in conscience, fail to bespeak for him the reader's sympathy in one of his own MISADVENTURES AT MARGATE. A LEGEND OF JARVIS'S JETTY. MR. SIMPKINSON (loquitur). 'TWAS in Margate last July, I walk'd upon the pier, I saw a little vulgar Boy-I said, "What make you here? The gloom upon your youthful cheek speaks anything but joy;" Again I said, "What make you here, you little vulgar Boy?" He frown'd, that little vulgar Boy, -he deem'd I meant to scoff And when the little heart is big, a little "sets it off; " He put his finger in his mouth, his little bosom rose,He had no little handkerchief to wipe his little nose! "Hark! don't you hear, my little man?-It's striking Nine," I said, "An hour when all good little boys and girls should be in bed. Run home and get your supper, else your Ma will scold -Oh! fie! It's very wrong indeed for little boys to stand and cry!" The tear-drop in his little eye again began to spring, His bosom throbb'd with agony,-he cried like any thing! I stoop'd, and thus amidst his sobs I heard him murmur -"Ah! I haven't got no supper! and I haven't got no Ma"!!"My father he is on the seas, -my mother's dead and gone! And I am here, on this here pier, to roam the world alone; I have not had, this live-long day, one drop to cheer my heart, Nor 'brown' to buy a bit of bread with, let alone a tart! "If there's a soul will give me food, or find me in employ, By day, or night, then blow me tight!" (he was a vulgar Boy ;) F2 "And now I'm here, from this here pier it is my fixed intent To jump, as Mister Levi did from off the Monu-ment!" "Cheer up! cheer up! my little man-cheer up!" I kindly said, "You are a naughty boy to take such things into your head: If you should jump from off the pier, you'd surely break your legs, Perhaps your neck-then Bogey'd have you, sure as eggs are eggs! "Come home with me, my little man, come home with me and sup; My landlady is Mrs. Jones-we must not keep her upThere's roast potatoes at the fire, -enough for me and you Come home, you little vulgar Boy-I lodge at Number 2." I took him home to Number 2, the house beside "The Foy," I bade him wipe his dirty shoes,-that little vulgar Boy, And then I said to Mistress Jones, the kindest of her sex, "Pray be so good as go and fetch a pint of double X!" |