* Like the Dutchman, who being desired to rub his rheumatic limb with brandy, improved upon the prescription. “I dosh better as dat,” roared Mynheer, “I drinks de prandy, and den I rubs mine leg wit de pottle!” the happy but bygone days of Dusty Bob and Billy Waters. * The well- known mendicants of St. Paul's churchyard, Waithman's crossing, and Par- liament-Street have, by a sweeping act of the * The Sons of Carew Made a mighty ado,-- The news was a terrible damper; The blind, in their fright, Soon recovered their sight, And the lame thought it prudent to scamper. They summon'd the nobs of their nation, St. Giles's was all consternation; The street they call Dyott Portended a riot, Belligerents all botheration! Mendicity Bill, Who for prowess and skill Was dubb'd the bold Ajax of Drury, With a whistle and stride Flung his fiddle aside, And his sky-scraper cock'd in a fury! “While a drop's to be had to get queer-a, I'll ne'er go a-begging for beer-a: Our ducks and green peas Shall the constable seize,-- Our sherry, our port, and Madeira?” But Law the bold heroes did floor, O! On dainty fine morsels no more, O! They merrily sup: Dusty Bob's doubled up,-- Poor Bill's occupation is o'er, O! legislature, been compelled to brush; their brooms are laid up in ordinary, to make rods for their backs, till the very stones they once swept are ready to rise and mutiny. Well might Epicurus say, 6 Poverty, when cheerful, ceases to be poverty.'” “Suppose, gentlemen, as the day is closing in, we each of us take our wallet and staff, trudge forth, and levy contribution! I am in a valiant humour to cry 'stand!' to a too powerfully refreshed citizen of light weight and heavy purse.” And Mr. Bosky suited the action to the word. “Sit down, soul of a grasshopper! The very ghost of his wife's tweezers would snuff out thy small courage. Thou hast slandered the beggars' craft, and, like greater rogues, shalt be condemned to live by thine own! Thou '_gibier de potence_!' Thou a prigger! Why thou art only a simple prig, turned out by thy tailor! Steal if thou canst into our good graces; redeem thy turpitude by emulating at least _one_ part of the beggars' calling, ballad-singing. Manifest thy deep contrition by a song.” “A bargain, Uncle Timothy. If thou wilt rake from a sly corner of that old curiosity shop, thy brain, some pageant of the ancient brethren of _Bull-Feathers-Hall_. What place more fitting for such pleasant chronicle, than the _Horns at Highgate?_” This proposal being assented to by the middle-aged gentleman, Mr. Bosky “rosined,” (swallowed a bumper) and sounded a musical flourish as a _preludio_. “But gentlemen, you have not said what I shall sing.”