Such are the woes of sleepers--now let’s take The woes of those that wish to keep _a Wake_ Oh think! when Wombwell gives his annual feasts, Think of these “Bulls of Basan,” far from mild ones; Such fierce tame beasts, That nobody much cares to see the Wild ones! Think of the Show woman, “what shows a Dwarf,” Seeing a red Cow come To swallow her Tom Thumb, And forc’d with broom of birch to keep her off! Think, too, of Messrs. Richardson and Co., When looking at their public private boxes, To see in the back row Three live sheep’s heads, a porker’s, and an Ox’s! Think of their Orchestra, when two horns come Through, to accompany the double drum! Or, in the midst of murder and remorses, Just when the Ghost is certain, A great rent in the curtain, And enter two tall skeletons--of Horses! Great Philanthropics! pray urge these topics! Upon the Solemn Councils of the Nation, Get a Bill soon, and give, some noon, The Bulls, a Bull of Excommunication! [Illustration: A BULL OF EXCOMMUNICATION.] Let the old Fair have fair-play as its right, And to each show and sight Ye shall be treated with a Free List latitude, To Richardson’s Stage Dramas, Dio--and Cosmo--ramas, Giants and Indians wild, Dwarf, Sea Bear, and Fat Child, And that most rare of Shows--a Show of Gratitude! [Illustration: “Arma Virumque _Canoe_.”] DRAWN FOR A SOLDIER. I was once--for a few hours only--in the militia. I suspect I was in part answerable for my own mishap. There is a story in Joe Miller of a man, who, being _pressed_ to serve his Majesty on another element, pleaded his polite breeding, to the gang, as a good ground of exemption: but was told that the crew being a set of sad unmannerly dogs, a Chesterfield was the very character they wanted. The militia-men acted, I presume, on the same principle. Their customary schedule was forwarded to me, at Brighton, to fill up, and in a moment of incautious hilarity--induced, perhaps, by the absence of all business or employment, except pleasure--I wrote myself down in the descriptive column as “_Quite a Gentleman_.” The consequence followed immediately. A precept, addressed by the High Constable of Westminster to the Low ditto of the parish of St. M*****, and endorsed with my name, informed me that it had turned up in that involuntary lottery, the Ballot.