But others who gabbled a jargon half Gaelic, Exclaim'd, "Hoot awa, mon, you're a' gane astray"-- And declared that "whoe'er might prefer the METALLIC, They'd shoe their OWN donkeys with papier mache." Meanwhile the poor Neddy, in torture and fear, Lay under his panniers, scarce able to groan, And, what was still dolefuler--lending an ear To advisers whose ears were a match for his own. At length, a plain rustic, whose wit went so far As to see others' folly, roar'd out as he pass'd-- "Quick--off with the panniers, all dolts as ye are, Or your prosperous Neddy will soon kick his last." MISADVENTURES AT MARGATE. A LEGEND OF JARVIS'S JETTY. B. HARRIS BABHAM. MR. SIMPKINSON (loquitur). I was in Margate last July, I walk'd upon the pier, I saw a little vulgar Boy--I said "What make you here?-- The gloom upon your youthful cheek speaks any thing but joy;" Again I said, "What make you here, you little vulgar Boy?" He frown'd, that little vulgar Boy--he deem'd I meant to scoff-- And when the little heart is big, a little "sets it off;" He put his finger in his mouth, his little bosom rose,-- He had no little handkerchief to wipe his little nose! "Hark! don't you hear, my little man?--it's striking nine," I said, "An hour when all good little boys and girls should be in bed. Run home and get your supper, else your Ma' will scold--Oh fie!-- It's very wrong indeed for little boys to stand and cry!" The tear-drop in his little eye again began to spring, His bosom throbb'd with agony--he cried like any thing! I stoop'd, and thus amidst his sobs I heard him murmur--"Ah I haven't got no supper! and I haven't got no Ma'!-- "My father, he is on the seas,--my mother's dead and gone! And I am here on this here pier, to roam the world alone; I have not had, this live-long day, one drop to cheer my heart, Nor 'BROWN' to buy a bit of bread with,--let alone a tart. "If there's a soul will give me food, or find me in employ, By day or night, then blow me tight!" (he was a vulgar Boy;) "And now I'm here, from this here pier it is my fixed intent To jump, as Mr. Levi did from off the Monu-ment!" "Cheer up! cheer up! my little man--cheer up!" I kindly said. You are a naughty boy to take such things into your head: If you should jump from off the pier, you'd surely break your legs, Perhaps your neck--then Bogey'd have you, sure as eggs are eggs! "Come home with me, my little man, come home with me and sup; My landlady is Mrs. Jones--we must not keep her up-- There's roast potatoes on the fire,--enough for me and you-- Come home,--you little vulgar Boy--I lodge at Number 2." I took him home to Number 2, the house beside "The Foy" I bade him wipe his dirty shoes,--that little vulgar Boy,-- And then I said to Mistress Jones, the kindest of her sex, "Pray be so good as go and fetch a pint of double X!"