N.B.--We are requested to state that the above described figure was entirely invented and manufactured by little Solomon Levy, of Hollywell-street, Strand, who has a variety always on show, about the metropolis. SYMPTOMS OF OSSIFICATION. “An indifference to tears, and blood, and human suffering, that could only belong to a _Boney-parte_.”--_Life of Napoleon._ TIME was, I always had a drop For any tale or sigh of sorrow; My handkerchief I used to sop Till often I was forced to borrow; I don’t know how it is, but now My eyelids seldom want a drying; The doctors, p’rhaps, could tell me how-- I fear my heart is ossifying! O’er Goethe how I used to weep, With turnip cheeks and nose of scarlet, When Werter put himself to sleep With pistols kiss’d and clean’d by Charlotte; Self-murder is an awful sin, No joke there is in bullets flying, But now at such a tale I grin-- I fear my heart is ossifying! The Drama once could shake and thrill My nerves, and set my tears a stealing, The Siddons then could turn at will Each plug upon the main of feeling; At Belvidera now I smile, And laugh while Mrs. Haller’s crying; ’Tis odd, so great a change of style-- I fear my heart is ossifying! That heart was such--some years ago, To see a beggar quite would shock it, And in his hat I used to throw The quarter’s savings of my pocket: I never wish--as I did _then_!-- The means from my own purse supplying, To turn them all to gentlemen-- I fear my heart is ossifying! We’ve had some serious things of late, Our sympathies to beg or borrow, New melo-drames, of tragic fate, And acts and songs, and tales of sorrow; Miss Zouch’s case, our eyes to melt, And sundry actors sad good-bye-ing. But Lord!--so little have I felt, I’m sure my heart is ossifying! THE POACHER. A SERIOUS BALLAD. But a bold pheasantry, their country’s pride, When once destroyed can never be supplied. GOLDSMITH. BILL BLOSSOM was a nice young man, And drove the Bury coach; But bad companions were his bane, And egg’d him on to poach. They taught him how to net the birds, And how to noose the hare; And with a wiry terrier, He often set a snare. Each “shiny night” the moon was bright, To park, preserve, and wood He went, and kept the game alive, By killing all he could. [Illustration: A BUCK-ANEER!] Land-owners, who had rabbits, swore That he had this demerit-- Give him an inch of warren, he Would take a yard of ferret. At partridges he was not nice; And many, large and small, Without Hall’s powder, without lead, Were sent to Leaden-Hall. He did not fear to take a deer, From forest, park, or lawn; And without courting lord or duke, Used frequently to _fawn_.