WHO'S WHO IN 1851.

WHO, when I feel a little ill, Sends me a daily draft and pill, Followed by a tremendous bill?

My Doctor!

Who preaches self-denying views,
Charges a heavy rent for pews,
And calls on me for Easter dues?
My Parson!
Who, when a law-suit I have won,
For a large sum begins to dun,
To which the extra costs have run?
My Lawyer !
Who, for my trousers, which, with straps,
Have cost him half-a-sovereign, p'raps,
Down in the bill two guineas claps?

My Tailor!

Who, when I wish of beef a stone,
Composed of wholesome meat alone,
Sends me at least three pounds of bone?
My Butcher!
Who, when I send a joint to bake,
Away from it contrives to take
Enough a hearty meal to make?

My Baker !
Who lends my Times to read in town,
And when I at the lateness frown,
Tells me the engine's broken down?

My Newsman ! Who coolly pawns my "other" shirt, And tells me, with assurance pert, She's only dropped it in the dirt?

My Laundress !

BY JAGY TORLTON.

He cadgily ranted and sang.-Old Song.

WHAT spins around "like all git out,"
And swiftly carries me about,
So light, so still, so bright and stout?
My Bicycle.
Regard me now where I sit high on
Nag forty pound of mostly iron;
And don't you wish that you might try on
My Bicycle?

Monstrum imforme, ingens ! some
Cry, seeing first this courser come,
Our "fine knee-action" strikes them dumb,
My Bicycle!

Call him a monster from the east,
And both a lean and fatuous beast,
You comprehend not in the least

My Bicycle.

Revolve it in your mind, and my way
Will show to be a more than guy way-
High way of riding on the highway-
My Bicycle.
Those now who stand and stare and say,
O, "parce nobis, s'il vous plait,"
Will beg to tread, another day,

MY CHIGNON.

My Bicycle. What tho' Hans Breitmann did, almost, And Schnitzerlein gave up the ghost? 'Twas all because they couldn't boast My Bicycle.

And saying mine, I do not mean There are not many others seen Who ride like me on my machine,

When void of bone a gap was seen, Who fix'd, the vacancy to screen, An artificial one between ?

My Bicycle.

My Dentist.

The following Parody is taken from a small and very scarce volume, entitled, " MY HOOKAH; or, The Stranger in Calcutta." Being a collection of Poems by an Officer. Calcutta: Printed at the Press of Greenway and Co., 1812.

The volume contains a Preface, 73 pages of Poetry, of a mildly humourous type, and a List of Subscribers, headed by the name of The Right Honourable Lord Minto, Governor General, etc., etc., etc. In a foot note to My Hookah, the Author (whose name is not given), remarks, Cowper's beautiful lines to Mary' have given rise to innumerable Parodies-we have had 'My Father,'' My Mother,' and even My Granny ;' why then should not 'My Hookah' be added to the number ?"

66

MY HOOKAH.

WHAT is it, that affords such joys
On Indian shores, and never cloys,
But makes that pretty, bubbling noise?
My Hookah.

What is it, that a Party if in
At breakfast, dinner, or at Tiffin,
Surprises and delights the Griffin?

My Hookah.
What is it to Cadets gives pleasure?
What is it occupies their leisure?
What do they deem the greatest treasure?
My Hookah,
Say-what makes Decency wear sable?
What makes each would-be nabob able
To cock his legs upon the table?

My Hookah,
What is it (trust me, I'm not joking,
Tis truth-altho', I own, provoking)
That sets e'en Indian belles a smoking?
My Hookah.
whensoe'er we search

What is it
In ev'ry place ;-except the Church,
That leaves sweet converse in the lurch?

WHO greets me with a greasy smile,
Though she is cheating me the while-
And says,
"I'm out of coals and ile?"
My Landlady.
Who says she's seen much better days,
And will her "poor departed" praise,
And with her chat my meal delays?
My Landlady.

Who lets her son my collars wear,
And with me my clean linen share?
Who with my clothes-brush does her hair?
My Landlady.

Who on my viands waxes fat!
Who keeps a most voracious cat!
Who often listens on my mat?

My Landlady.
Who won't bring up cold joints to me,
Who drinks my spirits-prigs my tea-
Who for my sideboard keeps a key?
My Landlady.
Who "cooks" the little bills I
pay,
And cheats me-yes! in every way;
Who is it I shall leave to-day?

THE UNDERGRAD'S SOLILOQUY. WHAT darkens all my bright career, And takes away my breath with fear, As I behold it looming near?

My Little-go.

MY MEMBer.

Dedicated to the Marquis of Londonderry.
WHO, now that naughty CASTLEREAGH
With Sharman Crawford's gone astray,
For Downshire ought to win the day?
My Member.
Who, since the seat I've dearly bought,
Must in for it at once be brought
(At least, so I have always thought)?
My Member.
Who, if he calls his soul his own,
And don't his views to mine postpone,
Shall overboard at once be thrown?
My Member.
Who, when I say that wrong is right,
That truth is falsehood, black is white,
Must take the self-same point of sight?
My Member.

Who, at my will, is deaf, dumb, blind,
And, howsoever disinclined,
Must, if he will speak, speak my mind?
My Member.
Who with my letters ne'er must fence,
But praise the style and guess the sense,
Despite the number, mood, and tense?
My Member.
Who, in the park or in the street,
Shall have a nod whene'er we meet,
And at my balls shall shake his feet?

THE Wind and tide have brought us fast,
The Custom House is well nigh past,
Alas; that this should be the last;
My Murray.
The spirits in my flask grew low,
Mine sinking too, I rushed below,
And in despair, cried, "Steward, oh !"
My Murray.
But once on shore, my troubles end,
Sights, sounds, no longer me offend,
I clap thee on the back, my friend!
My Murray.

My classics, once a shining store,
For thee put by this month or more,
Now rust disused and shine no more,

And though thou gladly would'st fulfil,
The same kind office for me still,
My purse now seconds not my will,
My Murray.
Thy shabby sides once crimson bright
Are quite as lovely in my sight,
As mountains bathed in roseate light,
My Murray.

For should I view them without thee,
What sights worth seeing could I see,
The Rhine would run in vain for me,
My Murray.

Companion of my glad ascent,
Mount Blanc I did with thy consent,
And saw wide-spread the Continent,

My Murray.

And falling in an airy bound,
In chase of some new charm or sound,
To save me-what came first to ground?
My Nose.
When some dark pass I would explore,
With neither shut nor open door,
What oft for me hard usage bore?
My Nose.
And when in want I yearn'd to eat,
And hunger might my judgment cheat,
What prompted me to food most sweet?
My Nose.
'Mid violet banks and woodbine bowers,
And beds where bloom'd the fairest flowers,
What fed me with their fragrant powers?
My Nose.

Each eye may need in age a guide,
And when young helpmates I provide,
Thy back thou'lt lend for them to stride,

My Nose.

And can I or in care or glee, Refuse my aid and love to thee, Who thus has felt and bled for me,

My Nose?