These fine-flavoured hams are bought AT 50 BISHOPSGATE WITHIN!"

Parr's Life Pills.

'Twas in the town of Lubeck, A hundred years ago, An old man walked into the church, With beard as white as snow; Yet were his cheeks not wrinkled, Nor dim his eagle eye: There's many a knight that steps the street, Might wonder, should he chance to meet That man erect and high!

When silenced was the organ, And hushed the vespers loud, The Sacristan approached the sire, And drew him from the crowd-- "There's something in thy visage, On which I dare not look; And when I rang the pa.s.sing bell, A tremor that I may not tell, My very vitals shook.

"Who art thou, awful stranger?

Our ancient annals say, That twice two hundred years ago Another pa.s.sed this way, Like thee in face and feature; And, if the tale be true, 'Tis writ, that in this very year Again the stranger shall appear.

Art thou the Wandering Jew?"

"The Wandering Jew, thou dotard!"

The wondrous phantom cried-- "'Tis several centuries ago Since that poor stripling died.

He would not use my nostrums-- See, shaveling, here they are!

_These_ put to flight all human ills, These conquer death--unfailing pills, And I'm the inventor, PARR!"

Tarquin and the Augur.

Gingerly is good King Tarquin shaving.

Gently glides the razor o'er his chin, Near him stands a grim Haruspex raving, And with nasal whine he pitches in Church extension hints, Till the monarch squints, Snicks his chin, and swears--a deadly sin!

"Jove confound thee, thou bare-legged impostor!

From my dressing-table get thee gone!

Dost thou think my flesh is double Glo'ster?

There again! That cut was to the bone!

Get ye from my sight; I'll believe you're right, When my razor cuts the sharpening hone!"

Thus spoke Tarquin with a deal of dryness; But the Augur, eager for his fees, Answered--"Try it, your Imperial Highness; Press a little harder, if you please.

There! the deed is done!"

Through the solid stone Went the steel as glibly as through cheese.

So the Augur touched the tin of Tarquin, Who suspected some celestial aid; But he wronged the blameless G.o.ds; for hearken!

Ere the monarch's bet was rashly laid, With his searching eye Did the priest espy ROGERS' name engraved upon the blade.

La Mort d'Arthur,

NOT BY ALFRED TENNYSON.

Slowly, as one who bears a mortal hurt, Through which the fountain of his life runs dry, Crept good King Arthur down unto the lake.

A roughening wind was bringing in the waves With cold dull plash and plunging to the sh.o.r.e, And a great bank of clouds came sailing up Athwart the aspect of the gibbous moon, Leaving no glimpse save starlight, as he sank, With a short stagger, senseless on the stones.

No man yet knows how long he lay in swound; But long enough it was to let the rust Lick half the surface of his polished shield; For it was made by far inferior hands, Than forged his helm, his breastplate, and his greaves, Whereon no canker lighted, for they bore The magic stamp of MECHI'S SILVER STEEL.

Jupiter and the Indian Ale.

"Take away this clammy nectar!"

Said the king of G.o.ds and men; "Never at Olympus' table Let that trash be served again.

Ho, Lyaeus, thou the beery!

Quick--invent some other drink; Or, in a brace of shakes, thou standest On Cocytus' sulphury brink!"

Terror shook the limbs of Bacchus, Paly grew his pimpled nose, And already in his rearward Felt he Jove's tremendous toes; When a bright idea struck him-- "Dash my thyrsus! I'll be bail-- For you never were in India-- That you know not HODGSON'S ALE!"

"Bring it!" quoth the Cloud-compeller; And the wine-G.o.d brought the beer-- "Port and claret are like water To the n.o.ble stuff that's here!"

And Saturnius drank and nodded, Winking with his lightning eyes, And amidst the constellations Did the star of HODGSON rise!

The Lay of the Doudney Brothers.

Coats at five-and-forty shillings! trousers ten-and-six a pair!

Summer waistcoats, three a sov'reign, light and comfortable wear!

Taglionis, black or coloured, Chesterfield and velveteen!

The old English shooting-jacket--doeskins such as ne'er were seen!

Army cloaks and riding-habits, Alberts at a trifling cost!

Do you want an annual contract? Write to DOUDNEYS' by the post.

DOUDNEY BROTHERS! DOUDNEY BROTHERS! Not the men that drive the van, Plastered o'er with advertis.e.m.e.nts, heralding some paltry plan, How, by base mechanic stinting, and by pinching of their backs, Lean attorneys' clerks may manage to retrieve their Income-tax: But the old established business--where the best of clothes are given At the very lowest prices--Fleet Street, Number Ninety-seven.

Wouldst thou know the works of DOUDNEY? Hie thee to the thronged Arcade, To the Park upon a Sunday, to the terrible Parade.

There, amid the bayonets bristling, and the flashing of the steel, When the household troops in squadrons round the bold field-marshals wheel, Shouldst thou see an aged warrior in a plain blue morning frock, Peering at the proud battalions o'er the margin of his stock,-- Should thy throbbing heart then tell thee, that the veteran worn and grey Curbed the course of Bonaparte, rolled the thunders of a.s.saye-- Let it tell thee, stranger, likewise, that the goodly garb he wears Started into shape and being from the DOUDNEY BROTHERS' shears!

Seek thou next the rooms of Willis--mark, where D'Orsay's Count is bending, See the trouser's undulation from his graceful hip descending; Hath the earth another trouser so compact and love-compelling?

Thou canst find it, stranger, only, if thou seek'st the DOUDNEYS'

dwelling!

Hark, from Windsor's royal palace, what sweet voice enchants the ear?

"Goodness, what a lovely waistcoat! Oh, who made it, Albert dear?

'Tis the very prettiest pattern! You must get a dozen others!"

And the Prince, in rapture, answers--"'Tis the work of DOUDNEY BROTHERS!"

Paris and Helen.

As the youthful Paris presses Helen to his ivory breast.

Sporting with her golden tresses, Close and ever closer pressed,

"Let me," said he, "quaff the nectar, Which thy lips of ruby yield; Glory I can leave to Hector, Gathered in the tented field.