A dog who saw the man's condition,
A lean and hungry politician,
On the look-out was lurking close behind ;—
A sly and subtle chap,
Of a most sagacious smell,
Like politicians of a higher kind,
Ready to snap
At any thing that fell.
The porter stagger'd on-the dog kept near,
Watching the lucky minute for a bite;
Now made a spring, and then drew back with fear,
While Hayman follow'd, tittering at the sight.
Great was the contrast 'twixt the man and dog;
The one a negligent and stupid lout,
That seem'd to know not what he was about,—
The other keen, observant, all agog:
Nor need it wonderment excite, I ween,
That Hayman closed the train, to mark the scene.
Through many a street our tipsy porter reels,
Then stops, as if to solemn thought inclined;
The watchful dog was ready at his heels,
And Hayman hobbled on not far behind.
Then rolling on again, the man survey'd
One of those happy mansions, where
A cordial drop imparts its cheering aid
To all the thirsty sons of Care.
The sight of this refreshing place,
The scent that hails him from the door,
Arrest at once his rambling pace,
As they had often done before.
My host, with accents that were wond'rous kind,
Invites him in, a jovial crew to join;
The man the generous courtesy declined,
Merely, perhaps, for want of thirst-or coin.
Straight on a bench without he stretch'd along,
Regardless of the passing throng;
And soon his weary eye-lids close,
While Somnus soothes him to repose.
The hare now prostrate on his back,
This was a lucky minute for a snack:
The dog, unable longer to refrain,
Gazed at the hare,
Jump'd and bit, jump'd and bit, jump'd and bit, and bit
At length, when he had clear'd away the rest,
The sated spoiler finish'd on the breast.
Then having made a hearty meal,
He careless turn'd upon his heel,
Nor thought of asking, "What's to pay ?"
But scamper'd at his ease away,
Perhaps to find some four-foot fair,
And tell the story of the hare.
And here some sage, with moral spleen may say,
"This Hayman should have driven the dog away;
"The effects of vice the blameless should not bear,
"And folks that are not drunkards lose their hare."
All this, we grant, is very true;
But in this giddy world, how few
To virtue's heights sublimely move,
Relinquishing the things they love.
Not so unfashionably good,
Our waggish painter laughing stood,
In hopes more sport to find;
Disposed to keep in view his game,
And with the ambitious Thane exclaim,
"The greatest is behind."
Besides, he knew whate'er the plan
That tempts the fond pursuits of man,
Though pleasure may the course attend,
The wise are heedful of the end.
Hence, though of mirth a lucky store
So aptly tumbled in his way,
Yet still he linger'd after more,
And thus he said, or seem'd to say:
"How will the people fret and scold,
"When they the bony wreck behold!
"And how the drunken rogue will stare,
"When first he sees what was the hare!
"The denouement must needs be droll,— ""Twere folly not to see the whole." Presuming thus on future pleasure,
Hayman kept post to wait the sleeper's leisure.
At length, our porter's balmy slumbers o'er,
He jogg'd on tottering as before,
Unconscious any body kind
Had eased him of his load behind.
Now on the houses turn'd his eye,
As if his journey's end were nigh,
Then read a paper in his hand,
And made a stand.-
Hayman drew near, with eager mein,
To mark the closing of the scene,
Expecting straight a furious din,
His features ready for a grin.
And now we need but mention one thing more,
To shew how well he must have liked the whim;
Though drunk, our porter hit at last the door,
And Hayman found the hare was sent to him!
"E'en as you would those others should to you." Now, had the painter mark'd this rule with care, He, not the dog, had dined upon the hare.
WHEN looking for lodgings, a stranger will see
Some customs abstruse to a southron like me.-
'Lodgings" put up, and began to explore
A dirty stone staircase, and came to a door,
With a name, and a bell, and a scraper complete,
Like the doors which, in England, we have in the street.
rung, and was told there were lodgings next door;
So I turn'd, and went down the stone staircase once more;
And I search'd the next house for these lodgings of theirs;
But discover'd at length that "next door" meant "up stairs;"
And, on the next story, I speedily came
To another street-door, with bell, scraper, and name;
And if you go up eight or nine stories more,
Each has scraper and bell, and a perfect street-door.
This custom at first could not fail to create a
Great marvel in me, for they all live in strata !
One over another, from bottom to top,
And beginning below with a stratum of shop!
And the mixture is such, that we often may see an
Undoubted pure stratum 'twixt strata plebeian :-
You may call on a friend of some ton, and discover him
With a shoemaker under, and a staymaker over him!
My dwelling begins with a perriwig-maker,—
I'm under a corn-cutter-over a baker;
Above the chiropodist, cookery too;
O'er that is a laundress-o'er her is a Jew;
A painter and tailor divide the eighth flat,
And a dancing academy thrives over that.
We'll leave higher circles unnamed:-T'other night,
My landlady enter'd my room in a fright,
And cried, half in tears, with a face full of woe,
"Your lumn's in a low, sir, your lumn's in a low."
I laugh'd in her face, for her hasty oration
To me had convey'd very small information :
Indignant she bawl'd, when she saw that I laugh'd—
"You're foolish-your lumn's in a low-the man's daft!— "The baker-the oven!"-I now comprehended,
And join'd in the cry, ere the uproar was ended,—
"The baker! the oven! oh, oh! is it so?
My chimey's on fire! my lumn's in a low!"
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