6^o. Discard superstition!--and don't take a post, If you happen to see one at night, for a Ghost! --Last of all, if by choice, or convenience, you're led, To cut a man's throat, or demolish his head, Don't do't in a thunderstorm--wait for the summer! And mind, above all things, the MAN'S NOT A DRUMMER!! * * * * * Among a bundle of letters I find one from Sucklethumbkin, dated from London, and containing his version of perhaps the greatest theatrical Civil War since the celebrated "O. P. row." As the circumstances are now become matter of history, and poor Doldrum himself has been, alas! for some time the denizen of a far different "House," I have ventured to preserve it. Perhaps it may be unnecessary to add, that my Honourable friend has of late taken to Poetry, and goes without his cravat. A ROW IN AN OMNIBUS (BOX). A LEGEND OF THE HAYMARKET. Omnibus hoc vitium cantoribus.--HOR. Dol-drum the Manager sits in his chair, With a gloomy brow and dissatisfied air, And he says as he slaps his hands on his knee, "I'll have nothing to do with Fiddle-de-dee!" --"But Fiddle-de-dee sings clear and loud, And his trills and his quavers astonish the crowd; Such a singer as he You'll nowhere see; They'll all be screaming for Fiddle-de-dee!"--"Though Fiddle-de-dee sings loud and clear, And his tones are sweet, yet his terms are dear! The 'glove won't fit!' The deuce a bit. I shall give an engagement to Fal-de-ral-tit!" The Prompter bow'd, and he went to his stall, And the green-baize rose at the Prompter's call, And Fal-de-ral-tit sang fol-de-rol-lol; But, scarce had he done When a row begun, Such a noise was never heard under the sun. "Fiddle-de-dee!-- --Where is he? He's the _Artiste_ whom we all want to see!-- Dol-drum!--Dol-drum!-- Bid the Manager come! It's a scandalous thing to exact such a sum For boxes and gallery, stalls and pit, And then fob us off with a Fal-de-ral-tit!-- Deuce a bit! We'll never submit! _Vive_ Fiddle-de-dee! _à bas_ Fal-de-ral-tit!" Dol-drum the Manager rose from his chair, With a gloomy brow and dissatisfied air; But he smooth'd his brow, As he well knew how, And he walk'd on, and made a most elegant bow, And he paused, and he smiled, and advanced to the lights, In his opera-hat, and his opera-tights; "Ladies and Gentlemen," then said he, "Pray what may you please to want with me?" "Fiddle-de-dee!-- Fiddle-de-dee!" Folks of all sorts and of every degree, Snob, and Snip, and haughty Grandee, Duchesses, Countesses, fresh from their tea, And Shopmen, who'd only come there for a spree, Halloo'd, and hooted, and roar'd with glee "Fiddle-de-dee!-- --None but He!-- Subscribe to his terms, whatever they be!-- Agree, agree, or you'll very soon see In a brace of shakes we'll get up an O.P.!"