ot to be set down
by any little fellow in a wig. "This offence against the
person and high office of the Abbot of St. Stephen's brought
honest Jack upon his knees, to get relieved from a
troublesome serjeant attendant of the chapel. Knowing his
own infirmities, and fearing perhaps that he might be com-
pelled to make another compulsory prayer, Jack resigned his
pretensions to senatorial honors at the last general
election. His chief amusement, when in town, is the watching
and tormenting the little marchandes des modes who cross
over or pass in the neighbourhood of Regent-street--he is,
however, perfectly harmless. 30 An unlucky accident,
occasioned by little Th-d the wine merchant overturning F-z-y
in his tandem, compelled the latter to sell out of the
army, but not without having lost a leg in the service. A
determined patriot, he was still resolved to serve his
country. A barrister on one leg might be thought ominous of
his client's cause, or afford food for the raillery of his
opponent. The bar was therefore rejected. But the church
opened her arms to receive the dismembered son of Mars (a
parson with a cork leg, or two wooden ones, or indeed
without a leg to stand on, was not un-orthodox), and F-z-y
was soon inducted to a valuable benefice. He is now, we
believe, a pluralist, and, if report be true, has shown
something of the old soldier in his method of retaining
them. F-y married Miss Wy-d-m, the daughter of Mrs. H-s, who
was the admired of his brother, L-d P-. He is generally
termed the fighting parson, and considered one of the best
judges of a horse in town: he sometimes does a little
business in that way among the young ones.

~176~~

A jolly dog, who sports his nag,
Or queers the Speaker's wig:
To Venus, Jack is stanch and true;
To Bacchus pays devotion too,
But likes not bully Mars.
Next him, some guardsmen, exquisite,-
A well-dress'd troop;--but as to fight,
It may leave ugly scars.
Here a church militant is seen,{30}
Who'd rather fight than preach I ween,
Once major, now a parson;
With one leg in the grave, he'll laugh,
Chant up a pard, or quaintly chaff,
To keep life's pleasant farce on.

~177~~

Lord