To clench the fact, Myself once guilty, of one small rash act, Committed at the Surrey Quite in a hurry, Felt all this flurry, Corporal worry, And spiritual scurry, Dram-devil--attic curry! All going well From prompter’s bell, Until befel A hissing at some dull imperfect dunce-- There’s no denying, I felt in all four elements at once! My head was swimming, while my arms were flying, My legs for running--all the rest was frying! [Illustration: HIS-TRIONICS.] XIII. Thrice welcome, then, for this peculiar use, Thy pens so innocent of goose! For this shall Dramatists, when they make merry, Discarding Port and Sherry, Drink--“Perry!” Perry, whose fame, pennated, is let loose To distant lands, Perry, admitted on all hands, Text, running, German, Roman, For Patent Perryans approach’d by no man! And when, ah me! far distant be the hour! Pluto shall call thee to his gloomy bow’r, Many shall be thy pensive mourners, many! And Penury itself shall club its penny, To raise thy monument in lofty place; Higher than York’s, or any son of War; Whilst Time all meaner effigies shall bury, On due pentagonal base, Shall stand the Parian, Perryan, perriwig’d Perry Perch’d on the proudest peak of Penman Mawr! [Illustration: “PENNSYLVANIA.”] SKETCHES ON THE ROAD. THE CHECK-STRING.