And so he hawks your jest about,
The old, authentic one,
Just breaking off the point of it,
And leaving out the pun!

5. You follow up a stylish card

That bids you come and dine,
And bring along your freshest wit,
(To pay for musty wine;)
You're looking very dismal, when
My lady bounces in,

And wonders what you're thinking of,
And why you don't begin!

6. You're telling to a knot of friends
A fancy-tale of woes
That cloud your matrimonial sky,
And banish all repose,—

A solemn lady overhears

The story of your strife,

And tells the town the pleasant news:-
You quarrel with your wife!

7. My dear young friend, whose shining wit Sets all the room ablaze, Don't think yourself a happy dog,'

For all your merry ways;—

But learn to wear a sober phiz,

Be stupid, if you can,

It's such a very serious thing

To be a funny man!

SOMETHING ABOUT NOTHING.-FROM SALAD FOR THE SOLITARY.

1. NOTHING will now be presented to the reader for his contemplation. If we offer nothing, nothing will, of course be expected, and nothing we may write will offend any one, provided we stick to our text.

"Which way the subject theme may gang,

Let time or chance determine;

Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon."

2. We have therefore determined to offer nothing, for which no apology will be required. Every thing is of some value and interest to somebody, but nothing concerns nobody —and is a nonentity. Permit us then to offer a word or two suggestive of this remarkable negative noun, this cipher in numbers so frequently in vogue, yet never in existence— for certainly nothing can offend, if nothing is affirmed.

3. Perhaps you may remember some occasions when nothing was preferable to anything,-the next of kin to nothing is nobody-and certainly there have been sundry times and seasons when nobody would have been preferred to anybody:it is not impossible that nothing, on the present occasion, may be preferred to anything else, and this is our apology for presenting so dark, mysterious and occult a subject to your contemplation. Out of nothing what marvels have sprung into being.

4. Nothing is a momentous affair-it must be of importance to some, and to affirm this of none, would be to assert it of all-since nothing is more self-evident than that two negatives create a positive. If nothing engages our attention at present, nothing interests us, (if we may be pardoned the illdisguised egotism,) we are talking about nothing, and we shall gain nothing by anything that may be said.

5. Nothing is certainly a fact, and yet every fact is something-nothing seems to be intangible and ideal, and yet it is

a reality-with all our labored attempts at its exposition, we must sum up all and confess it is a mysterious somethingsome may think we are making a great deal out of nothing; this is just what we purpose to effect. The fact is there is no end to nothing-it is a circle without beginning or end-and we are persuaded we shall never get to the end of our theme, unless we leave off as we commenced. The words of an old song seem to chime in here so well, that we must be excused for citing them in this place.

6. “The ancients have work'd upon each thing in nature,
Describ'd its variety, genius and feature;

They having exhausted all fancy could bring,
As nothing is left, why of nothing we sing.—
From nothing we came, and whatever our station,
To nothing we owe an immense obligation;
Whatever we gain, or whatever we learn,
In time we shall all into nothing return.

7. "This world came from nothing, at least so says history;
Of course about nothing there's something of mystery;
Man came from nothing, and by the same plan,
Woman was made from the rib of a man.
Since then a man thinks a nothing of taking,
A woman to join and again his rib making;
As nothing can give so much joy to his life,
Since nothing's so sweet as a good-humor'd wife.

8. Thinking of nothing is some folk's enjoyment,
Doing of nothing is many's employment;
The love of this nothing have some folks so strong,
They say nothing-do nothing all the day long;
Some pass their time nothing beginning,
By nothing losing, and by nothing winning;
Nothing they buy, and nothing they sell,

Nothing they know and nothing they tell.

9. There's something in nothing exceedingly clever;
Nothing will last out for ever and ever;
Time will make everything fade away fast,
While nothing will surely endure to the last.

10. That life is all nothing its plainer and plainer, So he who gets nothing is surely a gainer;

Thus much we prove pretty plain,

Take nothing from nothing, there'll nothing remain— Thus with this nothing the time out we're spinning, Nothing will sometimes set many folks grinning, Reader, believe it, while all this is true,

And the author wrote this having nothing to do."

TO A FLY TAKEN OUT OF A BOWL OF PUNCH.-WOLCOT.

1. Ah! poor intoxicated little knave,

་

Now senseless, floating on the fragrant wave;
Why not content the cakes alone to munch?
Dearly thou pay'st for buzzing round the bowl;
Lost to the world, thou busy sweet-lipped soul-

Thus Death as well as pleasure dwells with Punch.

2. Now let me take thee out and moralize :-
Thus 'tis with mortals, as it is with flies,
Forever hankering after Pleasure's cup:
Though Fate with all his legions, be at hand,
The beasts the draught of Circe can't withstand,
But in goes every nose-they must, will sup.

3. Mad are the passions, as a colt untamed!

When prudence mounts their backs to ride them mila.
They fling, they snort, they foam, they rise inflamed,
Insisting on their own sole will so wild.

Gadsbud! my buzzing friend, thou art not dead;
The fates, so kind, have not yet snapped thy thread;
Bravo! thou movest a leg, and now its brother,
And kicking, lo, again, thou movest another!

4. And now thy little drunken eyes unclose,

And now thou feelest for thy little nose,
And, finding it, thou rubbest thy two hands,
Much as to say:
"I'm glad I'm here again."
And well may'st thou rejoice-'tis very plain,
That near wert thou to Death's unsocial lands.

5. And now thou rollest on thy back about,
Happy to find thyself alive, no doubt-

Now turnest-on the table making rings;
Now scrambling forming a wet track,
Now shaking the rich liquor from thy back,

Now fluttering the nectar from thy silken wings,
Now standing on thy head, thy strength to find,
And poking out thy small, long legs behind,
And now thy pinions dost thou briskly ply;
Preparatory now to leave me-farewell, fly!

6. Go, join thy brothers on yoǹ sunny board,
And rapture to thy family afford-

There wilt thou meet a mistress, or a wife,
That saw thee drunk, drop senseless in the stream,
Who gave, perhaps, the wide resounding scream,
And now sits groaning for thy precious life.

7. Yes, go and carry comfort to thy friends,
And wisely tell them thy imprudence ends.
Let buns and sugar for the future charm;
These will delight, and feed, and work no harm—
Whilst Punch, the grinning, merry imp of sin,
Invites the unwary wanderer to a kiss,
Smiles in his face, as though he meant him bliss,
Then, like an alligator, drags him in!