* * * *

BRIDGET TROT AND TIMOTHY GREEN.

(_For the Mirror_.)

"'Tis a common tale,
An ordinary sorrow of man's life;
A tale of silent sufferings, hardly clothed
In bodily form."

WORDSWORTH.

Miss Bridget _Trot_, a "_wo_"-man was,
Of excellent repute,
Who _kept a stand_ in Leadenhall,
And there disposed of fruit.

And though in features rather _dark_,
No _fairer_ could be found;
For what she sold, like _ringing_ gold,
When _peeled_, was always _sound_!

She had moreover notions _high_,
And thought herself above
The very _low_-ly common way
Of _falling_ into love.

And therefore when to her his _suit_
A _Snip_ did often press
With vows of love, she _cut_ him _short_
At _length_, without _re-dress_.

Yet nothing odd was there in this
One case, it must be said;
For who that wish'd a _perfect_ man
Could with a _ninth part_ wed?

Not she for one, whatever he
Might do to make him _smart_,
And howsoe'er her saying "Nay"
Might add it to his heart.

'Tis very strange, (yet so it is,)
That vows should go for naught.
But she who _strove_ to 'scape love's _toils_
Quite unawares was caught!

For though so _hard_ to Snip _at first_,
_At last_ it chanced that she
A sort of soft emotion felt
Towards one Timothy,

A butcher--_Green_ by name, but _red_
In face, as was his cap,
And though he seldom tasted _wine_,
A _port_-ly sort of chap.

This man one day in passing by,
In taste for what she'd got,
Saw Biddy's stall--and 'twas her _fate_
To sell to him a _lot!_

She thought his manners very sweet,
He gave so fond a gaze;
(But dashing _blades_ of such like trades
Have ever _killing_ ways!)

And whilst he paid the _coppers_ down,
He had the _brass_ to say
Her _fruit_ was sweet, but sweeter still
The _apple_ of her eye.

Besides all this, he looked so neat
Whilst shouldering his tray;
So what with _steel, et cetera,_
Her heart was _stole_ away!

Lo! _shortly after_ both agreed,
They fixed the wedding day,
But _long before_ that day arriv'd
He took to stop away!

From that same time her peace of mind
And comfort were at _steak_--
She did so _lean_ to Mr. Green,
Her heart was like to break!

At last she went one morn to see
What he could be about,
And hoped, alone, to