Of all the belles who Christ Church bless, None's like the doctor's daughter{5}; Who hates affected squeamishness Almost as much as water. Unlike your modern dames, afraid Of Bacchus's caresses; She far exceeds the stoutest maid Of excellent queen Bess's. Hers were the days, says she, good lack, The days to drink and munch in; When butts of Burton, tuns of sack, Wash'd down an ox for luncheon. Confound your _nimpy-pimpy_ lass, Who faints and fumes at liquor; Give me the girl that takes her glass Like Moses and the vicar. 4 Mr. C--ss, otherwise Crotchet C--ss, bachelor of music, and organist of Christ Church College, St. John's College, and St. Mary's Church. An excellent musician, and a jolly companion: he published, some time since, a volume of chants. 5 A once celebrated university toast, with whose eccentricities we could fill a volume; but having received an intimation that it would be unpleasant to the lady's feelings, we gallantly forbear. ~226~~ True emblem of immortal ale, So famed in British lingo; Stout, beady, and a little _stale_-- Long live the Burton stingo! "A vulgar ditty, by my faith," said the exquisite, "in the true English style, all _fol de rol_, and a vile chorus to split the tympanum of one's auricular organs: do, for heaven's sake, Echo, let us have some _divertissement_ of a less boisterous character." "Agreed," said Eglantine, winking at Echo; "we'll have a _round of sculls_. Every man shall sing a song, write a poetical epitaph on his right hand companion, or drink off a double dose of rum booze."{6} "Then I shall be confoundedly _cut_," said Dick Gradus, "for I never yet could chant a stave or make a couplet in my life." "And I protest against a practice," said Lionise, "that has a tendency to trifle with one's _transitory tortures_." "No appeal from the chair," said Eglantine: "another bumper, boys; here's The Fair _Nuns of St. Clement's_." "To which I beg leave to add," said Echo, "by way of rider, their favourite pursuit, _The Study of the Fathers_." By the time these toasts had been duly honoured, some of the party displayed symptoms of being _moderately cut_, when Echo commenced by reciting his epitaph on his next friend, Bob Transit:-- Here rests a wag, whose pencil drew Life's characters of varied hue, Bob Transit--famed in humour's sphere For many a transitory year. Though dead, still in the "English Spy" He'll live for ever to the eye. Here uncle White{7} reclines in peace, Secure from nephew and from niece. 6 Rum booze--Flip made of white or port wine, the yolks of eggs, sugar and nutmeg.