chine
of Indian workmanship; but it is, we should fancy, mere
outside--fine to look at, but a "rum one to go," like the
be-togged, be-booted, be-spurred, furred, and cloaked half
pays, fortune-hunters, gentlemen with the brogue, &c. that
pay their court so assiduously to Mrs. Dolland's cheesecakes
and Mr. Heaviside's quadrilles. But the world is often
ornament caught.

~341~~

And daughter-selling mothers, still
Lure the young boys, their eyes may kill,
To wed your flesh and blood, and fill
Your purse, and pay your tours.

Ye London blacks, ye Cheltenham whites,{3}
Ye turners of the days to nights,
Make, make the most of all your flights,
Whilst I and Bernard doze;

But still be sure, by this same token,
We still shall sleep with one eye open{4}
And the first hour our nap is broken,
You'll pay for't through the nose.

3 There are indeed "black spirits and white spirits" of all
sorts and sizes, at all times and places; and a well-cut
coat and a white satin dress are frequently equally
dangerous glossings to frail and cunning mortality within.
To be sure, we have brought down the "tainted wethers of
dame Nature's flock" with the double barrels of wit and
satire, right and left; but like mushrooms or mole-hills,
they are a breeding, increasing species, and it will be only
a real battue of sharp-shooting that will destroy the
coveys. Nevertheless,

"I have a rod in pickle,
Their------------------"

I declare the Spirit is growing earthly.

4 The Bristol men "down along," sleep, they say, in this way
and hence is it rare for Jew or Gentile, Turk or infidel, to
get the blind side of them. Some of them, however, have ere
now been done brown, and that too by being too fanciful and
neat in their likings. These tales of the sleepers of an
eye are too good to be lost; they shall be bound up in the
volume of my brain, hereafter to be perused with advantage.
At present,

"I hear a voice thou canst not hear;
I see a hand thou canst not see;
It calls to me from yonder sphere,
It points to where my brethren be."

~342

When that time comes, and come it must,
For what we say is not pi