Miss Arabella. Why do all the dancers wear plaids, mamma?

Mrs. Greenfat. Because it's a cool dress, dear.

Mr. Greenfat. Well, if a girl of mine whisked her petticoats about in that manner, I'd have her horsewhipped.

Mr. Eelskin. Now we'll take a stroll till the concert begins again. This is the marine cave very natural to look at, Miss, but nothing but paint and canvass, I assure you. This is the rewolving evening war for the present; after the fire-works, it still change into his majesty, King George. Yonder's the hermit and his cat.

Master Peter. Mamma, does that old man always sit there?

Mrs. Greenfat. I'm sure I don't know, child; does he, Mr. Eelskin?

Mr. Greenfat. Nonsense-it's all gam

mon!

Mr. Eelskin. This way, my angel; the concert has recommenced.

Miss Theodosia. Oh, that's Charles Taylor; I likes his singing; he's such a merry fellow: do hancore him, John.

Mrs. Greenfat. Dosee, my dear, you're too bold; it was a very impurent song: I declare I'm quite ashamed of you!

Mr. Greenfat. Never mince matters; always speak your mind, girl.

Mr. Eelskin. The fire-works come next. Suppose we get nearer the Moorish tower, and look for good places, as Mr. G. dislikes paying for the gallery. Now you'll not be afeard; there'll not be the least danger, depend.

Mrs. Greenfat. Is there much smoke, Mr. John?-Do they fire many cannons? -I hates cannons-and smoke makes me cough. (Bell rings.) Run, run, my dearsHumphy, Peter, Bella, run! Mr. Greenfat, run, or we shall be too late! Eelskin and Dosee are a mile afore us! What's that red light? Oh, we shall all be burnt! What noise is that?-Oh, it's the bomb in the Park!-We shall all be burnt!

Mr. Greenfat. Nonsense, woman, don't frighten the children!

Miss Theodosia. Now you're sure the

rockets won't fall on my new pink bonnet, nor the smoke soil my French white dress, nor the smell of the powder frighten me into fits?-Now you're quite sure of it, John?

Mr. Eelskin. Quite sure, my charmer: I have stood here repeatedly, and never had a hair of my head hurt. See, Blackmore is on the rope; there he goes up-up-up! -Isn't it pretty, Miss?

Miss Theodosia. Oh, delightful!-Does he never break his neck?

Mr. Eelskin. Never-it's insured! Now he descends. How they shoot the maroons at him! Don't be afeard, lovee, they sha'n't hurt you. See, Miss, how gracefully he bows to you.-Isn't it terrific?

Miss Theodosia. Is this all?—I thought it would last for an hour, at least. John, I'm so hungry; I hope papa means to have supper?

Master Peter. Mamma, I'm so hungry. Master Humphrey. Papa, I'm so dry. Miss Arabella. Mamma, I want somewhat to eat.

Mrs. Greenfat. Greenfat, my dear, we must have some refreshments.

Mr. Greenfat. Refreshments! where will you get them? All the boxes are full. -Oh, here's one. Waiter! what, the devil, call this a dish of beef?-It don't weigh three ounces! Bring half a gallon of stout, and plenty of bread. Can't we have some water for the children?

Mr. Eelskin. Shouldn't we have a little wine, sir?-it's more genteeler.

Mr. Greenfet. Wine, Eelskin, wine !— Bad sherry at six shillings a bottle!Couldn't reconcile it to my conscience -We'll stick to the stout.

Mrs. Greenfut. Eat, my loves.-Some more bread for Bella.-There's a bit of fat for you, Peter.-Humphy, you shall have my crust.-Pass the stout to Dosee, Mr. John.--Don't drink it all, my dear!

Mr. Greenfat. Past two o'clock !-Shameful!-Waiter, bring the bill. Twelve shillings and eightpence - abominable! Charge a shilling a pot for stout-monstrous! Well, no matter; we'll walk home. Come along.

gardens.

Master Peter. Oh my! what a sweet place! Why, the lamps are thicker than the pears in our garden, at Walworth: what a load of oil they must burn!

Miss Arabella. Mamma, is that the lady mayoress, with the ostridge feathers, and the pink satin gown?

Mrs. Greenfat. No, my love; that's Miss Biddy Wilkins, of Gutter-lane! (To a waiter.) You rude fellow, you've trod on my dress, and your nasty foot has torn off one of my flounces.

Miss Theodosia. John, (to Mr. Eelskin,) how very pretty that hilluminated walk looks. Dear me! do you see the fountain? How vastly reviving this hot weather, isn't it?

Mr. Eelskin. Ah, my beloved Theodosia! how should I notice the beauties of the scene in your company-when your eyes are brighter than the lamps, and your voice is sweeter than the music? In vain the fiddlers fiddle, and the singers sing, I can hear nothing-listen to nothing-but my adorable Theodosia !

Master Humphrey. La, papa, what's that funny round place, with flags on the top, and ballad women and men with cocked hats inside?

Mr. Greenfat. That's the Hawkestraw. Mrs. Greenfat. Hush, my dear; it's vulgar to talk loud. Dosee, my love, don't hang so on Mr. John's arm, you'll quite fatigue him. That's Miss Tunstall-Miss Tunstall's going to sing. Now, my pretty Peter, don't talk so fast.

Miss Arabella. Does that lady sing in French, mamma?

Mrs. Greenfat. No, child, it's a senthemental air, and they never have no meaning?

Miss Theodosia. That's the overthure to Friedshots; Eelskin, do you like it?

Mr. Eelskin. On your piano I should. But shall I take you out of this glare of light? Would you choose a ramble dark walk, and a peep at the puppe cosmoramas?

Mr. Greenfat. I hates this (Bell rings.) What's that for Mr. Eelskin. That's for sheeni, and the balancing m Mr. Greenfat. Well th Look at Mr. Fant-toe-she Mrs. Greenfat. Oh squeedged. Pray do astonished at your r

Mr. Greenfat. Sir, how dare you suffer your wife to tread on my wife's toes? Master Peter. My stars, sister, he's got a bagginette on his nose!

Mrs. Greenfat. Mr. John, will you put little Humphy on your shoulder, a show him the fant-oh-see-ne?

Master Humphrey. I can see DOW mamma; there's Punch and Judy, ma ma! Oh, my! how well they do dance Mr. Greenfat. I can see this in the st. for nothing.

Mrs. Greenfat. Yes, Mr. Greenfat, not in such good company!

Mr. Eelskin. This, my beautiful T dosia, is the musical temple; it's verv gant-only it never plays Them ings on the walls were painted by Parke and Hingo Jones; the archute of this room is considered very fine Master Peter. Oh, I'm so hot rings.)

Mr. Eelskin. That's for the h lics. We'd better go into the ga then the ladies won't be in the

Mr. Greenfat. Come along want to go into the gallery a-piece, indeed! I wonder at dence! Why, we paid t pence a head at the door.

Mr. Eelskin. Admission t is hextra.

Mr. Greenfat. Downright o won't pay a farthing more.

Miss Arabella. See, mamm fire at once!-how droll!

Mrs. Greenfat. Pray be take off your hat, sir; my see a bit. Humphy, my the railing, and then yo place. Oh, Mr. John, sultry it is!

Mr. Greenfat. W that, eh, John? Mr. Eelskin.

For the Table Book.

1.

MY TEA-TOT while thy lips pour forth
For me a stream of matchless worth,
I'll forth
pour my rhymes for thee:
Don Juan's verse is gross, they say;
But I will pen a grocer lay,

Commencing "Amo tea."

2.

Yes-let Anacreon's votary sip
His flowing bowl with feverish lip,
And breathe abominations;
Some day he'll be bowl'd out for it-
He's brewing mischief, while I sit
And brew my Tea-pot-ations.
3.

After fatigue, how dear to me
The maid who suits me to a T,

And makes the water bubble.
From her red hand when I receive
The evergreen, I seem to give
At T. L. no trouble.

4.

I scorn the hop, disdain the malt,
I hate solutions sweet and salt,
Injurious I vote 'em ;

For tea my faithful palate yearns;
Thus though my fancy never turns,
It always is tea-totum !

5.

Yet some assure me whilst I sip,
That thou hast stain'd thy silver lip
With sad adulterations-
Slow poison drawn from leaves of sloe,
That quickly cause the quick to go,
And join their dead relations.

6.
Aunt Malaprop now drinks noyeau
Instead of Tea, and well I know

That she prefers it greatly:
She says, "Alas! I give up Tea,
There's been so much adultery
Among the grocers lately!"
7.

She warns me of Tea-dealers' tricks-
Those double-dealing men, who mix

Unwholesome drugs with some Tea

'Tis bad to sip-and yet to give
Up sipping's worse; we cannot live
"Nec sine Tea, nec cum Tea."
8.

Yet still, tenacious of my Tea,

I think the grocers send it me

Quite pure, ('tis what they call so.)

Heedless of warnings, still I get "Tea veniente die, et

Tea decedente," also.

SAM SAM'S SON.