Parent of Pleasure and of many a groan, I should be loath to part with thee, I own, Dear Life! To tell the truth, I'd rather lose a _wife_, Should Heav'n e'er deem me worthy of possessing That best, that most invaluable blessing. I thank thee, that thou brought'st me into being; The things of this our world are well worth seeing; And let me add, moreover, well worth feeling; Then what the Devil would people have? These gloomy hunters of the grave, For ever sighing, groaning, canting, kneeling. Some wish they never had been born, how odd! To see the handy works of God, In sun and moon, and starry sky; Though last, not least, to see sweet Woman's charms,-- Nay, more, to clasp them in our arms, And pour the soul in love's delicious sigh, Is well worth coming for, I'm sure, Supposing that thou gav'st us nothing more. Yet, thus surrounded, Life, dear Life, I'm thine, And, could I always call thee mine, I would not quickly bid this world farewell; But whether here, or long or short my stay, I'll keep in mind for ev'ry day An old French motto, “_Vive la bagatelle!_” Misfortunes are this lottery-world's sad blanks; Presents, in my opinion, not worth thanks. The pleasures are the twenty thousand prizes, Which nothing but a _downright ass_ despises. It was not, however, the mere representations of Bob's friend, with which, (in consequence of the important result,) we commenced our chapter, that produced the powerful effect of fixing the wavering mind of Bob--No, it was the air--the manner--the _je ne sais quoi_, by which these representations were accompanied: the curled lip of contempt, and the eye, measuring as he spoke, from top to toe, his companions, with the cool elegant sang froid and self-possession displayed in his own person and manner, which became a _fiat_ with Bob, and which effected the object so long courted by his cousin. After the manner of Yorick (though, by the bye, no sentimentalist) Bob thus reasoned with himself:--“If an acquaintance with London is to give a man these airs of superiority--this ascendancy--elegance of manners, and command of enjoyments--why, London for me; and if pleasure is the game in view, there will I instantly pursue the sport.” The song and toast, in unison with the sparkling glass, followed each other in rapid succession. During which, our elegant London visitor favoured the company with the following effusion, sung in a style equal to (though unaccompanied with the affected airs and self-importance of) a first-rate professor:-- SONG.