And there they'll be seen--they'll be all to be seen! The great-coats, the coffee-pot, mugs, and tureen! With the tight rope, and fire-works, and dancing between, If the weather should only prove fair and serene, And there, on a beautiful transparent screen, In the middle you'll see a large picture of Green, Mr. Hollond on one side, who hired the machine, Mr. Mason on t'other, describing the scene; And Fame, on one leg, in the air, like a queen, With three wreaths and a trumpet, will over them lean; While Envy, in serpents and black bombazin, Looks on from below with an air of chagrin! Then they'll play up a tune in the Royal Saloon, And the people will dance by the light of the moon, And keep up the ball till the next day at noon; And the peer and the peasant, the lord and the loon, The haughty grandee, and the low picaroon, The six-foot life-guardsman, and little gossoon, Will all join in three cheers for the "Monstre" Balloon. * * * * * It is much to be regretted that I have not as yet been able to discover more than a single specimen of my friend "Sucklethumbkin's" Muse. The event it alludes to, probably the _euthanasia_ of the late Mr. Greenacre, will scarcely have yet faded from the recollection of an admiring public. Although, with the usual diffidence of a man of fashion, Augustus has "sunk" the fact of his own presence on that interesting occasion, I have every reason to believe, that, in describing the party at the _auberge_ hereafter mentioned, he might have said, with a brother Exquisite, "_Quorum pars magna fui_." HON. MR. SUCKLETHUMBKIN'S STORY. THE EXECUTION. A SPORTING ANECDOTE. My Lord Tomnoddy got up one day; It was half after two, He had nothing to do, So his Lordship rang for his cabriolet. Tiger Tim Was clean of limb, His boots were polish'd, his jacket was trim; With a very smart tie in his smart cravat, And a smart cockade on the top of his hat; Tallest of boys, or shortest of men, He stood in his stockings just four foot ten; And he ask'd, as he held the door on the swing, "Pray, did your Lordship please to ring?" My Lord Tomnoddy he raised his head, And thus to Tiger Tim he said, "Malibran's dead, Duvernay's fled, Taglioni has not yet arrived in her stead; Tiger Tim, come tell me true, What may a Nobleman find to do?"-- Tim look'd up, and Tim look'd down, He paused, and he put on a thoughtful frown, And he held up his hat, and he peep'd in the crown; He bit his lip, and he scratch'd his head, He let go the handle, and thus he said, As the door, released, behind him bang'd: "An't please you, my Lord, there's a man to be hang'd."