│26│Fête Champêtre. _Field-fare_ arrive. │ ☊ ⚹ ♀ │ │ │ │ │ │27│ │ _expect_ │ │ │ │ │ │28│ │ _fair │ │ │ │ weather_ │ │ │ │ │ │29│ │ _to the_ │ │ │ │ │ │30│ │_end of the_ │ │ │ │ │ │31│Jews banished England, 1290. "New Way to Pay Old │ _month_. │ │ │ Debts." │ │ └──┴────────────────────────────────────────────────────┴─────────────┘ A TOUGH YARN. Guy Davit was a sailor bold, As ever hated France; And tho' he never cared for gold, He stuck to the main chance. Susanna Sly was what they call A servant of all work: Made beds, baked pies, cleaned shoes, hemmed shirts Blacked grates, and pickled pork. Young Guy was born upon the Thames, Off the Adelphi, Strand; And so the water—do you see?— Became his father-land. 'Twas there he served his time; and none On "wessel," boat, or raft, More honest was: altho' 'twas known He loved a little _craft_. He soon had weathered twenty-one; Youth's cable then let slip, He stepped out of his master's _boat_, And his apprentice-_ship_. Next year, the First of August come, He trimmed his little boat, And plied so well his oars, he won Old Dogget's badge and coat. 'Twas then Susanna saw him first, And first felt Cupid's dart. The young toxophilite had hit The bull's-eye of her heart. A thousand hearts besides her own With am'rous hopes beat higher, It seemed as if Love, with his link, Had set the Thames on fire. So Sue set up her best mob cap At Guy, to win his heart, For some folks Love makes slatternly, And some folks he makes _smart_. But Guy was a conservative, (The hottest of the nation,) And so he wasn't going to yield To any _mob's_ dictation. Then Sue a tender letter wrote: Guy didn't seem to heed it, And not one word of answer sent; For why?—he couldn't read it.