But should it prove a real ghost, Who, with a _Fool's-cap_, takes his _Post_, To grasp the _Crown_ we've fairly got, We warn him he shall go to _Pot_, And in the Red Sea soon be _laid_; Or to his _warm_ berth posted back, Where he'll be _hotpress'd_ in a crack, Unless his exit's quickly made; For none but nincompoops and fools Let "dead men push them from their stools." (Signed) RIGDUM FUNNIDOS. ┌──────────────────────────────────────────────────┬──────────────────┐ │ JANUARY. │ [1836.│ ├─────────────┬────────────────────────────────────┴──────────────────┤ │ │"Kind Reader!" (as old Francis always said,) │ │ │Beware of counterfeits, for Frank is dead; │ │ │Some Quack survives—_physician_—if he will, │ │ │To swallow, of _our physic_, many a pill. │ │ │We'll spread the caustic 'midst the town's applause, │ │ │And thank the public that the blister _draws_. │ ├──┬──────────┼────────────────────────────────────┬──────────────────┤ │ M│ Season's │ =Odd Matters.= │ WEATHER. │ │ D│ Signs. │ │ │ ├──┼──────────┼────────────────────────────────────┼──────────────────┤ │ 1│When it │ │ │ │ │ │ │ My │ │ 2│freezes │ "HARD FROST." │ │ │ │ │ │ profound │ │ 3│and │The day is clear, the frost is │ │ │ │ │ hard,— │ │ │ │ │ I very much incline, │ │ │ 4│blows │As I'm a _dab_, to have a _skate_ │ △ ⚹ ☉ │ │ │ │ Upon the SERPENTINE. │ │ │ 5│take │ │ │ │ │ │There's Mr. Tait,—he cuts an eight; │prognostifications│ │ 6│care of │ He cannot cut a nine; │ │ │ │ │And I could cut as good a _figure_ │ │ │ 7│your │ On the SERPENTINE. │ of the │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 8│nose │I _hate_ the _eight_ of Mr. Tait, │ │ │ │ │ For he's no friend of mine; │ weather │ │ 9│that it │He used me once so ungenteely │ │ │ │ │ On the SERPENTINE. │ │ │10│doesn't │ │ │