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SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS

LADDER OF LOVE
 
Men and women,—more or less,—
Have minds o' the self-same metal, mould, and form!—
Doth not the infant love to sport and laugh,
And tie a kettle to a puppy's tail?—
Doth not the dimpled girl her 'kerchief don
(Mocking her elder) mantilla wise—then speed
To mass and noontide visits; where are bandied
Smooth gossip-words of sugared compliment?
But when at budding womanhood arrived,
She casts aside all childish games, nor thinks
Of aught save some gay paranymph—who, caught
In love's stout meshes, flutters round the door,
And fondly beckons her away from home,—
The whilst, her lady mother fain would cage
The foolish bird within its narrow cell!—
And then, the grandame idly wastes her breath,
In venting saws 'bout maiden modesty—
And strict decorum,—from some musty volume:
But the clipp'd wings will quickly sprout again;
And whilst the doating father thinks his child
A paragon of worth and bashfulness,—
Her thoughts are hovering round the precious form
Of her sweet furnace-breathing Don Diego!—
And he, all proof 'gainst dews and nightly blasts,
In breathless expectation waits to see
His panting Rosa at the postern door;—
While she sighs forth "My gentle cavalier!"—
And then they straightway fall to kissing hands,
And antic-gestures—such as lovers use,—
Expressive of their wish quickly to tie
The gordian knot of marriage;—Pretty creatures!—
But why not earlier to have thought of this?—
When he, the innocent youth, was wont to play
At coscogilla; and the prattling girl,
Amid her nursery companions, toiled
In sempstress labours for her wooden dolls.—
Ah! wherefore, did I ask?—Because forsooth,
Their ways are changed with their increasing years!—
For when for gallantry the time be come—
And when the stagnant blood begins to boil
Within the veins, my master—then the lads
Cast longing looks on damosels—for nature
Defies restraint—and kin-birds flock together!—
And think not, Master, Chance disposes thus;
Or were it so, then chance directs us all—
Whene'er we have attain'd the important age!
I, –, am a living instance!—
Was I not once a lively laughing boy?
And, in my stripling age, did I not love
The pastimes suited to those madcap days?—
Oh! would to heaven those times were present still!
But wherefore fret myself with hopes so vain?—
The silly thought doth find no shelter here,—
That any beauty, with dark roguish eyes,
With sparkling blood, and rising warmth of youth,
Would e'er affect this wrinkled face of mine:—
The very thought doth smack of foolishness!—
And, though the truth may be a bitter pill,
Yet,—
It is most fitting that we know ourselves.
 

Spanish Comedy—Foreign Review.

A HINT TO RETIRING CITIZENS
 
Ye Cits who at White Conduit House,
Hampstead or Holloway carouse,
Let no vain wish disturb ye;
For rural pleasures unexplored,
Take those your Sabbath strolls afford,
And prize your Rus in urbe.
 
 
For many who from active trades
Have plung'd into sequester'd shades,
Will dismally assure ye,
That it's a harder task to bear
Th' ennui produced by country air,
And sigh for Urbs in rure.
 
 
The cub in prison born and fed,
The bird that in a cage was bred,
The hutch-engender'd rabbit,
Are like the long-imprison'd Cit,
For sudden liberty unfit,
Degenerate by habit.
 
 
Sir William Curtis, were he mew'd
In some romantic solitude,
A bower of rose and myrtle,
Would find the loving turtle dove
No succedaneum for his love
Of London Tavern turtle.
 
 
Sir Astley Cooper, cloy'd with wealth,
Sick of luxurious ease and health,
And rural meditation,
Sighs for his useful London life,
The restless night—the saw and knife
Of daily amputation.
 
 
Habit is second nature—when
It supersedes the first, wise men
Receive it as a warning,
That total change comes then too late,
And they must e'en assimilate
Life's evening to its morning.
 
 
Thrice happy he whose mind has sprung
From Mammon's yoke while yet unwrung
Or spoilt for nobler duty:—
Who still can gaze on Nature's face
With all a lover's zeal, and trace
In every change a beauty.
 
 
No tedium vitae round him lowers,
The charms of contrast wing his hours,
And every scene embellish:—
From prison, City, care set free,
He tastes his present liberty
With keener zest and relish.
 

New Monthly Mag.

THE GATHERER

 
"A snapper up of unconsidered trifles."
 
SHAKSPEARE.
ACCOMMODATION FOR THREE HALFPENCE

A gentleman on a wet evening entered the bar of an inn, and while standing before the fire, called to a servant girl who had come to receive his orders, "Margaret, bring me a glass of ale, a clean pipe, a spitoon, a pair of snuffers, and the newspaper. And Margaret, take away my great coat, carry it into the kitchen, and hang it before the fire to dry, and dry my umbrella, and tell me what o'clock it is; and if Mr. Huggins should come in, request him to come this way, for I think 'tis near seven, and he promised to meet me at that hour. And Margaret, get me change for a sovereign, and see that all the change is good, take for the glass of ale out of it, and put the coppers in a piece of paper. And Margaret, tell Jemima to bring some more coals, take away the ashes, and wipe the table. And Margaret, pull down the blinds, shut the door, and put-to the window-shutters."—N.B. The gentleman had his own tobacco.

TWO EVILS, (EXTEMPORE.)
 
Can man sustain a greater curse
Than to possess an empty purse?
Yes, with abundance to be blest,
And not enjoy the pow'r to taste.
 
G.K
EPIGRAM, FROM THE GERMAN

If one has served thee, tell the deed to many? Hast thou served many?—tell it not to any.

J.L.S
A GENTLEMAN

To tell the reader exactly what class of persons was meant to be designated by the word gentleman, is a difficult task. The last time we heard it, was on visiting a stable to look at a horse, when, inquiring for the coachman, his stable-keeper replied, "He has just stepped to the public-house along with another gentleman."

The following is the negro's definition of a gentleman:—"Massa make de black man workee—make de horse workee—make de ox workee—make every ting workee, only de hog: he, de hog, no workee; he eat, he drink, he walk about, he go to sleep when he please, he liff like a GENTLEMAN."

"VERY BAD."

Why are washer-women, busily engaged, like Adam and Eve in Paradise? Because they are so-apy (so happy).

Why is a widower, going to be married, like Eau de Cologne? Because he is re-wiving.

Why is a vine like a soldier? Because it is listed and trained, has ten-drills, and shoots.

Why is a sailor, when at sea, not a sailor? Because he's a-board.

Why is a city gentleman, taken poorly in Grosvenor-square, like a recluse? Because he is sick-westward (sequestered.)

Why is it better for a man to have two losses than one? Because the first is a loss, and the second is a-gain.

"If Britannia rules the waves," said a qualmish writing-master, going to Margate last week in a storm, "I wish she'd rule 'em straighter."– Lit. Gaz.

Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset House,) London; sold by ERNEST FLEISCHER, 626, New Market, Leipsic; and by all Newsmen and Booksellers.

***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION, VOL. 12, ISSUE 331, SEPTEMBER 13, 1828***

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