_Dec. 6._--Peter reported stock--three coats, three pairs of trousers, quarter of a pound of mutton, and one potato. Landlord sent a note remonstrating against using the beds all day, and applying the blankets to the purposes of dressing-gowns. Proposed, in consequence of this impertinent communication, that the payment of the next week's rent be disputed--carried _nem. con_. A coat and a pair of trousers ordered for the day's necessities--Peter popped as usual--proceeds, 10s. 6d.--coals bought--ditto a quire of paper, and the _et cets_. for home correspondence. Blue devils very prevalent. _Dec. 7._--Peter reported stock--two coats, two pairs of trousers, and five gentlemen in bed. Smith hinted at the "beauties of _Burke_"--Peter brought a note for Jones--everybody in ecstacy--Jones's jolly old uncle from Glamorganshire had arrived in town. Huzza! safe for a 20l. Busker (_that's myself_) volunteered his suit--Jones dressed and off in a brace of shakes--caught Peter laughing--found it was a hoax of Jones's to give us the slip--would have stripped Peter, only his clothes were worth nothing--calculated the produce of the remaining suit at-- Buttons . . . . . a breakfast. Two sleeves . . . . one pint of porter. Body . . . . . . . four plates of a-la-mode. Trousers (at per leg) . half a quartern loaf. Caught an idea.--wrote an anonymous letter to the landlord, and told him that an association had been formed to burke Colonel Sibthorp--his lodgers the conspirators--that the scheme was called the "Lie-a-bed plot"--poverty with his lodgers all fudge--men of immense wealth--get rid of them for his own sake--old boy very nervous, having been in quod for smuggling--gave us warning--couldn't go if we would. Landlord redeemed our clothes. Ha! ha!--did him brown. The above is a statement of what I suffered during my minority. I have now the honour to be a magistrate and a member of Parliament. * * * * * THE RICH OLD BUFFER. A MAIDEN LYRIC. Urge it no more! I must not wed One who is poor, so hold your prattle; My lips on love have ne'er been fed, With poverty I cannot battle. My choice is made--I know I'm right-- Who wed for love starvation suffer; So I will study day and night To please and win a rich OLD BUFFER. Romance is very fine, I own; Reality is vastly better; I'm twenty--past--romance is flown-- To Cupid I'm no longer debtor. Wealth, power, and rank--I ask no more-- Let the world frown, with these I'll rough her-- Give me an equipage and four, Blood bays, a page, and--rich OLD BUFFER. An opera-box shall be my court, Myself the sovereign of the women; There moustached loungers shall resort, Whilst Elssler o'er the stage is skimming. If any rival dare dispute The palm of _ton_, my set shall huff her; I'll reign supreme, make envy mute, When once I wed a rich OLD BUFFFER!