Shrine of the sainted Bartlemy! whose _fête_ Was kept up in thy sanctum all the night, When for the booths the hours got too late, And stern policemen snuffed out every light From hoop of dips, or lamp balloon so bright, Leaving nought else to snuff but morning air; Fair temple! once a scene too gay to last, In every sense the focus of the fair!— But now thy glories all away have past! No more thy fiddlers country dances play (Polkas, thank goodness, were not known); no more Thy earnest votaries danced in wild array— Until they sent their feet right through the floor;— No—all have gone! the blight has seized thy hops! Unwieldy brutes block up thy very door! Sheep, laden with long loins of mutton-chops, And living steaks and sirloins by the score, Hereafter sent to "Dick's," the "Cheshire Cheese," The "Rainbow," and a hundred taverns more, Where waiters, frantic, ceaselessly do roar, "Cook, single mutton,"—"Small steak, underdone!" Or, "Chops to follow, with eschalot for one!"— Oh, Ram! my pen can't paint such scenes as these, The pens of Smithfield only should attest thy fun. THINGS TO BE BORNE IN MIND IN MARCH. Lady-day is the 25th. If you mean to change your residence about that time, bespeak a van in time, large enough to carry off everything at once without coming back again. But as March is a month in which the wind is generally very easily raised, hope for the best. That Parliament gets into full swing this month; therefore, give up all notion of seeing a newspaper in a coffee-room under an hour after the sixth gentleman has applied for it. The world of fashion is beginning to awaken. Change from the chrysalis state of the twelve shilling tweed to the butterfly transition of the guinea paletot. High-lows are, however, still to be met with on wet evenings, in damp situations. The gossamer sometimes takes flight this month to distant regions, therefore procure a piece of string. Should you be unfortunately incarcerated for debts exceeding £20, Nicol's registered paletot will be the most suitable wear, as the advertisements say, that wearing it insures a general sense of freedom. [Illustration] THE STAG A NEW READING FROM "AS YOU LIKE IT." SCENE.—_The Alley._ Present, TWO DIRECTORS. _1st Dir._ Come, shall we take a look at Capel Court? And yet I'm sorry, when I see the stags, To think how we, being as bad ourselves, Do call them rogues and knaves.