One evening, as he view'd the sky Through his best tube with curious eye, And 'mid the azure wilds of air Pursu'd the progress of a star, A figure seem'd to intervene, Which in the sky he ne'er had seen, But thought it some new planet given, To dignify his views of heaven. 'Oh, this will be a precious boon! Herschel's volcanoes in the Moon Are nought to this,' old Senex said; 'My fortune is for ever made.' 'It is, indeed,' a voice replied: The old man heard it, terrified; And as Fear threw him to the ground, Through the long tube Death gave the wound. Plate 5. _The Father of the Family._ The doctors say that you're my booty; Come, sir, for I must do my duty. Death, in this picture, has rather a hard tussle for it. His friends, the learned physicians, who are pocketing their fees, and turning their backs on their late patient, are hurrying away. Death, with a great show of force, has seized his victim, still in the pride of manhood, by the dressing-gown, and is seeking to drag him from the frantic embraces of those to whom his life is dear. The father and mother are remonstrating with this merciless abductor; the blooming wife and infants of the unfortunate are cast down in despair; his sisters have seized him boldly round the waist, and, one behind the other, are making a sturdy stand against the fatal messenger; the servants and all the inmates of the noble mansion have rushed out, and are endeavouring by their entreaties, or by a show of resistance, to stay the steps of the tyrant. Plate 6. _The Fall of Four-in-Hand._ Death can contrive to strike his blows By overturns and overthrows. Death has come again, in his irresistible shape, and he has found the occasion ready to his hand. A dashing charioteer, a man of wealth and fashion, with a gaily attired female by his side, is tearing along, eager to leave behind The common coursers of the wind, In more than phaetonic state, For every horse had won a plate. But on arriving at a low bridge, which spans a torrent, the blood horses become unmanageable; the driver sighs for a 'tight postilion,' and behold on the 'leader' is seated one who will spur the whole team to destruction; the horses are sent over the narrow bridge, the tall curricle is capsized, and eternity is instantly opened to the careless pleasure-seekers. Plate 7. _Gaffer Goodman._ Another whiff, and all is o'er, And Gaffer Goodman is no more.