What moral greets us by this tale’s assistance But that the Solon is a sorry Solon, Who makes the full stop of a Man’s existence Depend upon a _Colon_? [Illustration: PRO BONO PUBLICO.] THE COMET. AN ASTRONOMICAL ANECDOTE. “I cannot fill up a blank better than with a short history of this self-same _Star_ling.”--STERNE’S SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY. AMONGST professors of astronomy, Adepts in the celestial economy, The name of H*******l’s very often cited, And justly so, for he is hand and glove With ev’ry bright intelligence above; Indeed, it was his custom so to stop, Watching the stars upon the house’s top, That once upon a time he got be-knighted. In his observatory thus coquetting With Venus--or with Juno gone astray, All sublunary matters quite forgetting In his flirtations with the winking stars, Acting the spy--it might be upon Mars-- A new André; Or, like a Tom of Coventry, sly peeping, At Dian sleeping; Or ogling thro’ his glass Some heavenly lass Tripping with pails along the Milky Way; Or looking at that Wain of Charles the Martyrs:-- Thus he was sitting, watchman of the sky, When lo! a something with a tail of flame Made him exclaim, “_My_ stars!”--he always put that stress on _my_-- “_My_ stars and garters!” “A comet, sure as I’m alive! A noble one as I should wish to view; It can’t be Halley’s though, _that_ is not due Till eighteen thirty-five. Magnificent!--how fine his fiery trail! Zounds! ’tis a pity, though he comes unsought-- Unask’d--unreckon’d,--in no human thought-- He ought--he ought--he ought To have been caught With scientific salt upon his tail!” [Illustration: “POSSE COMETATIS.”] “I look’d no more for it, I do declare, Than the Great Bear! As sure as Tycho Brahe is dead, It really enter’d in my head No more than Berenice’s Hair!” Thus musing, Heaven’s Grand Inquisitor Sat gazing on the uninvited visitor Till John, the serving-man, came to the upper Regions, with “Please your Honour, come to supper.” “Supper! Good John, to-night I shall not sup Except on that phenomenon--look up!” “Not sup!” cried John, thinking with consternation That supping on a _star_ must be _star_vation, Or ev’n to batten On Ignes Fatui would never fatten, His visage seem’d to say,--that very odd is,-- But still his master the same tune ran on, “I can’t come down,--go to the parlour, John, And say I’m supping with the heavenly bodies.”