. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. o-House !There !— qui meruit ferat ! ** You have made, too, a plot in the night,To run off from the school that you rear at!Come, your other hand, now, sir,—the right,There !— Palmam qui meruit ferat ! Ill teach you to draw, you young dog!Such pictures as Im looking here at!*• Old Mounseer making soup of a frog,—There !— Palmam qui meruit ferat! You have run up a bill at a shop,That in paying youll be a whole year at;Youve but twopence a week, sir, to stop!There !— Palmam qui meruit ferat! Then at dinner youre quite cock-a-hoop,And
. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. o-House !There !— qui meruit ferat ! ** You have made, too, a plot in the night,To run off from the school that you rear at!Come, your other hand, now, sir,—the right,There !— Palmam qui meruit ferat ! Ill teach you to draw, you young dog!Such pictures as Im looking here at!*• Old Mounseer making soup of a frog,—There !— Palmam qui meruit ferat! You have run up a bill at a shop,That in paying youll be a whole year at;Youve but twopence a week, sir, to stop!There !— Palmam qui meruit ferat! Then at dinner youre quite cock-a-hoop,And the soup you are certain to sneer at ;I have sippd it—its very good soup,—There !— Palmam qui meruit ferat ! Tother day, when I fell oer the form,Was my tumble a thing, sir, to cheer at?Well for you that my tempers not warm,—There !— Palmam qui meruit ferat! Why, you rascal ! you insolent brat!All my talking you dont ?^lied a tear at ;There—take that, sir ! and that ! that! and thatThere !— Palmam qui meruit ferat ! 591. A Misguided Man. A BLIND MAN* IS a blackamoor turned outside in. His skin is fait, but his liningis utter dark ; his eyes are like shotten stars,—mere jellies ; oflike mock-painted windows since the tax upon davlight: what hismmds eye can be is yet a mystery with the learned, or if he hath amental capacity at all—for, out of sight is out of mind. Wherever he stands he is antipodean, with his midnight to yournoon. The brightest sunshine serves only to make him the gloomierobject, like a dark house at a general illumination. When he stirs, itis like a Venetian blind, being pulled up and down by a string ; he isa human kettle tied to a dogs tail, and with much of the same tintwang in his tone. With botanists he is a species of solanum, or night-shade, whereof the berries are in his eyes ;—amongst painters he isonly contemned for his ignorance of cLire-obscure ; but by musiciansmarvelled at for playing, ante-sight, on an invisible
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