as never done,
Yet arts that thrive at Number Five
Don't take at Number One.

"'Tis hard with plenty in the street,
And plenty passing by,--
There's nice young men at Number Ten,
But only rather shy;
And Mrs. Smith across the way
Has got a grown-up son.
But la! he hardly seems to know
There is a Number One!

"There's Mr. Wick at Number Nine,
But he's intent on pelf,
And though he's pious, will not love
His neighbour as himself.
At Number Seven there was a sale--
The goods had quite a run!
And here I've got my single lot
On hand at Number One!

"My mother often sits at work
And talks of props and stays,
And what a comfort I shall be
In her declining days!
The very maids about the house
Have set me down a nun,
The sweethearts all belong to them
That call at Number One!

"Once only, when the flue took fire,
One Friday afternoon,
Young Mr. Long came kindly in,
And told me not to swoon.
Why can't he come again without
The Phoenix and the Sun?
We cannot always have a flue
On fire at Number One!

"I am not old, I am not plain,
Nor awkward in my gait--
I am not crooked like the bride
That went from Number Eight;
I'm sure white satin made her look
As brown as any bun--
But even beauty has no chance
I think at Number One.

"At Number Six they say Miss Rose
Has slain a score of hearts,
And Cupid, for her sake, has been
Quite prodigal of darts.
The imp they show with bended bow--
I wish he had a gun;
But if he had, he'd never deign
To shoot with Number One.

"It's very hard, and so it is,
To live in such a row;
And here's a ballad-singer come
To aggravate my woe;
O take away your foolish song
And tones enough to stun--
There is 'nae luck about the house,'
I know at Number One."

Next is a prose sketch:

THE FURLOUGH.--AN IRISH ANECDOTE.

"In the autumn of 1825, some private affairs called me into the sister
kingdom; and as I did not travel, like Polyphemus, with my eye out,
I gathered a few samples of Irish character, amongst which was the
following incident:--

"I was standing one morning at the window of 'mine Inn,' when my
attention was attracted by a scene that took place beneath. The Belfast
coach was standing at the door, and on the roof, in front, sat a
solitary outside passenger, a fine young fellow, in th