. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. for aboatswains whistle. He hates prospects, but enjoys retrosfiects. Anold boat, a stray anchor, or decayed mooring-iing, will set him dream-ing for hours. He splices sea and land ideas together. He reads of shooting off a tie at Battersea, and it reminds him of a ball carryingaway his own pigtaik Canvassing for a situation, recalls runningwith all sails set for a station at Aboukir. He has the advantage ofour Economists as to the Standard of Value, knowing it to be theBritish ensign. The announcement of an arrival of foreign vessels,with
. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. for aboatswains whistle. He hates prospects, but enjoys retrosfiects. Anold boat, a stray anchor, or decayed mooring-iing, will set him dream-ing for hours. He splices sea and land ideas together. He reads of shooting off a tie at Battersea, and it reminds him of a ball carryingaway his own pigtaik Canvassing for a situation, recalls runningwith all sails set for a station at Aboukir. He has the advantage ofour Economists as to the Standard of Value, knowing it to be theBritish ensign. The announcement of an arrival of foreign vessels,with our ports open, claps him into a paradise of prize money, withPoll of the ftnt. He wonders sometimes at petitions to be dis-charged from the Fleet, but sympathises with those in the MarshalseaCourt, as subject to a sea court-martial. Finally, try him even nthe learned languages, by asking him tor the meaning of GeorgiusRex, and he will answer, without hesitation, The wrecks of theRoyal George. * Comic Annual, 183a 4ro ^^^li|li kv/Xi-A! ••I!Llili. Enjoying the Tails of My Landlord. THE BURNING OF THE LOVE-LETTER. Sometimes they were put to the proof, by what was called the Fiery Oideal.—Hist. Eng No mornin-g ever seemd so long!—I tried to read with all my might !In my left hand My Landlords Tales,And threepence ready in my right. *Twas twelve at last—my heart beat liigh !— The postman rattled at the door !— And just upon her road to church, I dropt the Bride of Lammermoor ! I seized the note—I fiW upstnirs—Flung-to the door, and lockd me in jWith panting h;iste I tore tlie seal,And kissd the B in Benjamin ! * Comic Animal, 1830. THE ANGLERS FAREWELL. *Twas full of love—to rhyme with dove—And all that tender sort of thing—Of sweet and meet -and heart and dart—But not a word about a ring ! In doubt I cast it in the flame,And stood to watch the latest spark—And saw the love all end in smoke,Without a Parson and a Clerk! 47i THE ANGLERS FAREWELL.* Resign
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