Says each to each, "We're simpletons, or sad deceivers, some of us; And I am sure, ma'am, I don't know whatever will become of us." THE RAILWAY TRAVELER'S FAREWELL TO HIS FAMILY. "T WAS business call'd a Father to travel by the Rail; PUNCH. His eye was calm, his hand was firm, although his cheek was pale. and free. I'm going by the Rail, my dears-ELIZA, love, don't cry— I'm going by the Rail, my dears, where the engines puff and hiss; Sometimes from scandalous neglect, my dears, the sleepers sink, Or there may be a screw loose, a hook, or bolt, or pin- If a policeman 's careless, dears, or if not over-bright, Points may be badly managed, as they were the other day, And should your poor Papa escape, my darlings, with his life, I hope I shall come back, my dears-but, mind, I am insured- THE Plague has come among us, Fear and remorse have stung us, Miserable sinners! We ask the State to fix a day, Whereon all men may fast and pray, PALMERSTON TO THE PRESBYTERS. The Plague that comes among you, To effort hath it strung you? Miserable sinners! You ask that all should fast and pray; Sloth and supineness put away, For Plagues, like other evils, Are God's and not the Devil's, Miserable sinners! Scourges they are, but in a hand Look round about your city, Arouse to shame and pity, Miserable sinners! Pray but use brush and limewash pail; Fast but feed those for want who fail; Bow down, gude town, to ask for grace, But bow with cleaner hands and face, Miserable sinners! All Time God's Law hath spoken, That Law may not be broken, Miserable sinners! But he that breaks it must endure We can not juggle Heaven, With one day out of seven, Shall any force of fasts atone For years of duty left undone? How expiate with prayer or psalm, Let us be up and stirring, Miserable sinners! 'Mong ignorant and erring, Sloth and self-seeking from us cast, For of all prayers prayed 'neath the sun To such advice you'd ne'er attend; Your courses; but, I know, will spend I do not ask you to eschew The paths of vice and sin; You'll do as all young boobies, who You'll sot, you'll bet; and, being green, At all that's right you'll joke; Your life will be a constant scene Of billiards and of smoke. With bad companions you'll consort, But oh, my son! although you must You will not be, I hope—I trust— Of course at prudence you will sneer, All rascally associates shun To bid you were too much, It asks no penetrative mind To know these fellows: when You meet them, you, unless you're blind, At once discern the men. The turgid lip, the piggish eye, The nose in form of hook, The rings, the pins, you tell them by, The vulgar flashy look. Spend every sixpence, if you please, But do not, I implore, Oh! do not go, my son, to these Vultures to borrow more. |