Hence little boys may learn, when they from school go out to dine, They should not deal in rigmarole, but still be back by nine; For if when they've their great-coat on, they pause before they part To tell a long and prosy tale,--perchance their own may smart! MORAL. --A few remarks to learned Clerks in country and in town-- Don't keep a pretty serving-maid, though clad in russet brown!-- Don't let your Niece sing "Bobbing Joan!"--don't with a merry eye, Hob-nob in Sack and Malvoisie,--and don't eat too much pie!! And oh! beware that Entry dark,--especially at night,-- And don't go there with Jenny Smith all by the pale moonlight!-- So bless the Queen and her Royal Weans,--and the Prince whose hand she took,-- And bless us all, both great and small.--and keep us from Nell Cook! [Illustration: THE DARK ENTRY] FOOTNOTES: [37] In or about the year 1780, a worthy of this name cut the throat of a journeyman paper-maker, was executed on Oaten Hill, and afterwards hung in chains near the scene of his crime. It was to this place, as being the extreme boundary of the City's jurisdiction, that the worthy Mayor with so much _naïveté_ wished to escort Archbishop M---- on one of his progresses, when he begged to have the honour of "attending his Grace _as far as the Gallows_." * * * * * Kind, good-hearted, gouty Uncle John! how well I remember all the kindness and affection which my mischievous propensities so ill repaid--his bright blue coat and resplendent gilt buttons--his "frosty pow" _si bien poudré_--his little quill-like pigtail!--Of all my praiseworthy actions--they were "like angels visits, few and far between"--the neverfailing and munificent rewarder; of my naughty deeds--they were multitudinous as the sands on the seashore--the ever-ready palliator; my intercessor, and sometimes even my defender against punishment, "staying harsh justice in its mid career!"--Poor Uncle John! he will ever rank among the dearest of my NURSERY REMINISCENCES. I remember, I remember, When I was a little Boy, One fine morning in September Uncle brought me home a toy. I remember how he patted Both my cheeks in kindliest mood; "Then," said he, "you little Fat-head, There's a top because you're good!" Grandmama--a shrewd observer-- I remember gazed upon My new top, and said with fervour, "Oh! how kind of Uncle John!" While Mama, my form caressing,-- In her eye the tear-drop stood, Read me this fine moral lesson, "See what comes of being good!" * * * * * I remember, I remember, On a wet and windy day, One cold morning in December, I stole out and went to play; I remember Billy Hawkins Came, and with his pewter squirt Squibb'd my pantaloons and stockings Till they were all over dirt!