Oh! never may mem’ry lose sight of that year, But still hallow the time as it ought; That season the “grass” was remarkably dear, And the peas at a guinea a quart. So happy, like hours all our days seemed to haste, A fond pair, such as poets have drawn, So united in heart--so congenial in taste, We were both of us partial to brawn! A long life I looked for of bliss with my bride, But then Death--I ne’er dreamt about that! Oh! there’s nothing is certain in life, as I cried When my turbot eloped with the cat! My dearest took ill at the turn of the year, But the cause no physician could nab; But something it seemed like consumption, I fear; It was just after supping on crab. In vain she was doctored, in vain she was dosed, Still her strength and her appetite pined; She lost relish for what she had relished the most. Even salmon she deeply declined! For months still I lingered in hope and in doubt, While her form it grew wasted and thin! But the last dying spark of existence went out, As the oysters were just coming in! She died, and she left me the saddest of men To indulge in a widower’s moan; Oh! I felt all the power of solitude then, As I ate my first natives alone! But when I beheld Virtue’s friends in their cloaks, And with sorrowful crape on their hats, Oh! my grief poured a flood; and the out-of-door folks Were all crying--I think it was sprats! [Illustration: “THE CITY REMEMBRANCER.”] SAINT MARK’S EVE. A TALE OF THE OLDEN TIME. “The Devil choke thee with un!”--as Master Giles, the Yeoman, said this, he banged down a hand in size and colour like a ham, on the old-fashioned oak table;--“I do say the Devil choke thee with un!” The Dame made no reply: she was choking with passion and a fowl’s liver--the original cause of the dispute. A great deal has been said and sung of the advantage of congenial tastes amongst married people, but true it is, the variances of our Kentish couple arose from this very coincidence in gusto. They were both fond of the little delicacy in question, but the Dame had managed to secure the morsel for herself, and this was sufficient to cause a storm of very high words--which properly understood, signifies very low language. Their mealtimes seldom passed over without some contention of the sort,--as sure as the knives and forks clashed, so did they--being in fact equally greedy and disagreedy--and when they did pick a quarrel--they picked it to the bone. [Illustration: BOXER AND PINCHER.]