Slowly and sadly we all walk'd down From his room in the uppermost story; A rushlight we placed on the cold hearth-stone, And we left him alone in his glory. Hos ego versiculos feci, tulit alter honores.--_Virgil._ I wrote the verses, * * claimed them--he told stories. _Thomas Ingoldsby._ * * * * * The following parody is copied literally from an old ballad sheet in the British Museum, bearing the imprint:--"Printed and sold by J. Pitts, 6 Great St. Andrew Street, Seven Dials." No date is given, but that it was prior to 1830 is shown by the reference to the "Charleys," a nick-name for the old London watchmen, who were superseded by the new police towards the end of 1829. But the crimes of Body-snatching, and "Burking," were not finally put a stop to until, by the act of 1832, provision was made for the wants of surgeons by permitting, under certain regulations, the dissection of persons dying in workhouses, etc.:-- Not a trap was heard, or a Charley's note As our course to the churchyard we hurried, Not a pigman discharg'd a pistol shot As a corpse from the grave we unburied. We nibbled it slily at dead of night, The sod with our pick-axes turning, By the nosing moonbeam's chaffing light, And our lanterns so queerly burning. Few and short were the words we said, And we felt not a bit of sorrow, But we rubb'd with rouge the face of the dead And we thought of the spoil for to-morrow. The useless shroud we tore from his breast And then in regimentals bound him, And he looked like a swoddy taking his rest, With his lobster togs around him. We thought as we fill'd up his narrow bed, Our snatching trick now no look sees; But the bulk and the sexton will find him fled, And we far away towards Brooks's. Largely they'll cheek 'bout the body that's gone And poor Doctor Brooks will upbraid him; But nothing we care if they leave him alone In a place where a snatcher has laid him. But half of our snatching job was o'er, When a pal tipt the sign quick for shuffling, And we heard by the distant hoarse Charley's roar That the beaks would be 'mongst us soon scuffling. Slily and slowly we laid him down, In our cart famed for staching in story; Nicely and neatly we done 'em brown, For we bolted away in our glory. * * * * * At the time when the first Reform Bill was under discussion its opponents constantly asserted that, if it were carried, the ancient constitution of the country would be swept away, and that ruin, revolution, and anarchy would result. The following parody appeared in a Liberal newspaper of the period:-- ODE ON THE DEATH AND BURIAL OF THE CONSTITUTION.