MEM. To remember to forget to ask Old Whitbread to my house one day MEM. Not to forget to take of beer the cask, The brewer offered me, away. Now having penciled his remarks so shrewd, Sharp as the point indeed of a new pin, His majesty his watch most sagely viewed, And then put up his asses' skin. To Whitbread now deigned majesty to say, "Whitbread, are all your horses fond of hay!" "Yes, please your majesty," in humble notes, The brewer answered--"also, sir, of oats: Another thing my horses too maintains, And that, an't please your majesty, are grains." "Grains, grains," said majesty, "to fill their crops? Grains, grains?--that comes from hops--yes, hops, hops? hops?" Here was the king, like hounds sometimes, at fault-- "Sire," cried the humble brewer, "give me leave Your sacred majesty to undeceive; Grains, sire, are never made from hops, but malt." "True," said the cautious monarch, with a smile: "From malt, malt, malt--I meant malt all the while." "Yes," with the sweetest bow, rejoined the brewer, "An't please your majesty, you did, I'm sure." "Yes," answered majesty, with quick reply, "I did, I did, I did I, I, I, I." Now this was wise in Whitbread--here we find A very pretty knowledge of mankind; As monarchs never must be in the wrong, 'Twas really a bright thought in Whitbread's tongue, To tell a little fib, or some such thing, To save the sinking credit of a king. Some brewers, in a rage of information, Proud to instruct the ruler of a nation, Had on the folly dwelt, to seem damned clever! Now, what had been the consequence? Too plain! The man had cut his consequence in twain; The king had hated the WISE fool forever! Reader, whene'er thou dost espy a nose That bright with many a ruby glows, That nose thou mayest pronounce, nay safely swear, Is nursed on something better than small-beer. Thus when thou findest kings in brewing wise, Or natural history holding lofty station, Thou mayest conclude, with marveling eyes, Such kings have had a goodly education. Now did the king admire the bell so fine, That daily asks the draymen all to dine: On which the bell rung out (how very proper!) To show it was a bell, and had a clapper. And now before their sovereign's curious eye, Parents and children, fine, fat, hopeful sprigs, All snuffling, squinting, grunting in their style, Appeared the brewer's tribe of handsome pigs: On which the observant man, who fills a throne, Declared the pigs were vastly like his own: