At a meeting of the Rabbis, Held about the Whitsuntide, Was this thorough-paced Barabbas Wedded to his Hebrew bride. All his former debts compounded, From the spunging-house he came; And his father's feelings wounded With reflections on the same.' It is a very dear marriage for UWINS, for on visiting his father the Baron, that incensed nobleman tells the double-dyed apostate never to cross his threshold again, and directs JOHN the porter to kick him into the street. The order is anticipated: 'Forth rushed I. O. UWINS, faster Than all winking, much afraid That the orders of the master Would be punctually obeyed; Sought his club, and there the sentence Of expulsion first he saw: No one dared to own acquaintance With a bailiff's son-in-law. Uselessly down Bond-street strutting, Did he greet his friends of yore; Such a universal cutting Never man received before. Till at last his pride revolted; Pale, and lean, and stern, he grew; And his wife REBECCA bolted With a missionary Jew. Ye who read this doleful ditty, Ask ye where is UWINS now? Wend your way through London city, Climb to Holborn's lofty brow; Near the sign-post of 'The Nigger,' Near the baked-potato shed, You may see a ghastly figure, With three hats upon his head. When the evening shades are dusky, Then the phantom form draws near, And, with accents low and husky, Pours effluvia in your ear; Craving an immediate barter Of your trousers or surtout, And you know the Hebrew martyr, Once the peerless I. O. U.' * * * * *