A ball struck Bill upon the cheek,
Which made him faintly falter-
"Oh! how they've altered my queer gib
"At the siege of Gibraltar.

"Had I but listed in the Guards,
"I had not met these woes;
"Now, having lost one half my face,
"I cannot face my foes.

"And as for rallying all my strength,
"To make the wretches rue it,
"The thing is quite impossible-
"I've not the face to do it."

With hands fast tied, and led along
A prisoner by the foe-man;
But Bill got free, and laughing cried,
"The tide will stay for no man."

Now safely stored at Chelsea Reach,
Poor Bill does stoutly sing,
With a whole heart, but half a head,
"Long live-God save the King."

JOHN AND JOAN.

No plate had John and Joan to hoard,
Plain folk in humble plight;
One only tankard crown'd their board,
And that was fill'd each night.

Along whose inner bottom, sketch'd
In pride of chubby grace,

Some rude engraver's hand had etch'd
A baby angel's face.

John swallow'd first a moderate sup,
But Joan was not like John,

For when her lips once touch'd the cup,
She swill'd till all was gone.

John often urged her to drink fair,
But she ne'er changed a jot;
She loved to see the angel there,
And therefore drain'd the pot.

When John found all remonstrance vain,
Another card he play'd;

And where the angel stood so plain,
He got a devil pourtray'd.

Joan saw the horns, Joan saw the tail,
Yet she as stoutly quaff'd ;
And ever when she seized the ale,
She clear'd it at a draught.

John stared, with wonder petrified,
His hair rose on his pate:

And "Why dost guzzle now," he cried,
"At this enormous rate ?"

66

66 Oh, John," said she, am I to blame?"I can't in conscience stop:

"For sure 'twould be a burning shame "To leave the devil a drop !"

THE ATHEIST AND THE ACORN. "Methinks the world seems oddly made, "And every thing amiss ;"

A dull complaining Atheist said,
As stretched he lay beneath the shade,
And instanced it in this :-

"Behold," quoth he, "that mighty thing, "A pumpkin large and round,

"Is held but by a little string,

"Which upwards cannot make it spring, "Nor bear it from the ground.

"While on this oak an acorn small, "So disproportioned grows,

"That whosoe'er surveys this all, "This universal casual ball,

"Its ill-contrivance knows.

66

My

better judgment would have hung
"The pumpkin on a tree,

"And left the acorn slightly strung,
"'Mongst things that on the surface sprung,
"And weak and feeble be."

No more the caviller could say,
Nor further faults descry;
For upwards gazing as he lay,
An acorn loosen'd from its spray
Fell down upon his eye.

The wounded part with tears ran o'er,
As punish'd for that sin :
Fool! had that bough a pumpkin bore,
Thy whimsies would have work'd no more;
Nor skull have kept them in.

I VANT TO FLY.

During the last war, there were a number of French officers, in an inland town, on their parole of honour. Now, one of these gentlemen, being tired with the usual routine of eating, drinking, gambling, smoking, &c., resolved, in order to amuse himself otherwise, to go a fishing. His host supplied him with a rod and line, but being in want of artificial flies, went in search of a fishing tackle maker's shop. Having found one, kept by a plain pains-taking John Bull, our Frenchman entered, and with a bow, a cringe, and a shrug of the shoulders, thus began:

"Ah, Monsieur Anglise, comment vous portez vous ?"

"Eh that's French," exclaimed the shop-keeper; "not that I understand it, but I'm very well, if that's what you mean."

"Bon, bon, ver good; den, sare, I sall tell you, I vant deux fly."

"I dare say you do, Mounseer," replied the Englishman," and so do a great many more of your outlandish gentry; but I'm a true-born Briton, and can

never consent to assist the enemies of my country to leave it particularly when they cost us so much to bring them here."

"Ah, Monsieur, you no comprehend; I sall repeat, I vant deux fly, on de top of de vater."

"Oh! what you want to fly by water, do you? then I'm sure I can't assist you, for we are at least a hundred miles from the sea-coast, and our canal is not navigable above ten or twelve miles from here."

"Diable, mon Dieu! sare, you are un stup of the block. I sall tell you once seven times over again-I vant deux fly on the top of de vater, to dingle dangle on de end of de long pole."

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Ay, ay! you only fly, Mounseer, by land or water, and if they catch you, I'm damned if they won't dingle dangle you, as you call it, at the end of a long pole."

"Sacre de dieu! la blas! vat you mean by dat, enfer diable? you are un bandit jack of de ass, Johnny de Bull. Ba, ba, you are effronte, and I disgrace me to parley vid you. I tell you, sare, dat I vant deux fly on de top of de water, to dingle dangle at de end of de long pole, to lay trap poisson."

"What's that you say, you French Mounseer-you'll lay a trap to poison me and all my family, because I won't assist you to escape? why, the like was never heard-Here, Betty, go for the constable."

The constable soon arrived, who happened to be as ignorant as the shop-keeper, and of course it was not expected that a constable should be a scholar. Thus the man of office began :

"What's all this? Betty has been telling me that this here outlandish Frenchman is going to poison you and all your family? Ay, ay, I should like to catch him at it, that's all. Come, come to prison, you delinquent."

"No, sare, I sall not go to de prison; take me before de-what you call it -de ting what nibble de grass}" "Oh, you mean the cow."

"No, sare, not de cow; you stup Johnny bœuf—I mean de cheval, vat you ride. [Imitating.] Com, sare, gee up. Ah, ah."

"Oh, now I know, you mean a horse."

"No, sare, I mean de horse's vife." "What, the mare."

"Oui bon, yes, sare, take me to de mayor."

This request was complied with, and the French officer soon stood before the English magistrate, who, by chance, happened to be better informed than his neighbours, and thus explained, to the satisfaction of all parties.

You have mistaken the intentions of this honest gentleman; he did not want to fly the country, but to go a fishing, and for that purpose went to your shop to purchase two flies, by way of bait, or, as he expressed it, to lay trap for les poissons. Poisson, in French, is fish."

"Why, aye," replied the shop-keeper, "that may be true-you are a scholard, and so you know better than I. Poison, in French, may be very good fish, but give me good old English roast beef."

THE FAKENHAM GHOST.
(BLOOMFIELD.)

The lawns were dry in Euston park-
(Here truth inspires my tale)-
The lonely footpath, still and dark,
Led over hill and dale.

Benighted was an ancient Dame
And fearful haste she made
To gain the vale of Fakenham,
To hail its willow shade,

Her footsteps knew no idle stops,

But follow'd faster still;

This ballad is founded on fact. The circumstances occurred perhaps long before I was born; but it is still related by my mother, and some of the oldest inhabitants of that part of the country.