|A A o 3 19 1 1 |3 o : c I 33 ! m ; O I O PR 3991 A6A7 FITS OF FOLLY: OR THE ABERATIOMSOFA PHIL- OSOPHER THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES <\: "4*1 4 < FITS OF FOLLY; OR THE ABERRATIONS OF A PHILOSOPHER, BY ANYBODY. " Dulee est dcsiptre in loco." — Horace. CAMBRIDGE: PUBLISHED BY J. JOHNSON. LONDON : Printed l>y I H Mi,r*hall, IM, Fleet Street. NOTICE. These verses were written on various occasions, and without any design for publication, during the present Long Vacation. Every subject, except one, was succes- sively suggested by passing circumstances. For in- stance, the Author was requested by a great political and financial character to " try his hand" upon the u Repeal of the Union," and the song styled "John Bull" was the consequence of that trial. " Pro and Con" was scribbled while waiting at an Hotel for the appearance of a friend, and to this gave rise the con- versation of two gentlemen in an adjacent box. The trifle " 'T has always been my way" was introduced by a laughable incident which occurred in the Zoological Gardens. " Mary, canst thou care for me," arose from a bashful friend, as talented as timid, formerly of Trinity College with the author, having made love to the lady who now blesses him with abundant happi- ness, in the following strain : — Mr. V. (As they walked to the Catholic Chapel to hear the music) " Can you care for me?" 978374 4 NOTICE. Miss. S. 'Certainly, Mr. Y-, 1 entertain the greatest regard for every member of the Doctor's family.' Mr. V. — " But is there no one of that family whom you can care for?" Miss S. — ' That is a delicate question. You must allow me some time for consideration ere I reply." — and so on. " ^V ^ ild Oats all sown" sprung up from the unrea- sonable jealousy of the wife of a very intimate friend, who whilst at College was exceedingly gay, but who now is. thanks to the lady, completely reformed. And "St. Thomas's day" happening to be that of their mar- riage, formed another interesting topic. With respect to "The Snobs' Trip," the subject of it was the source of so much amusement in the Town and University, that the author being imme- diately subjected to one of his rhyming aberrations, produced the fiction in question- Such observations form, perhaps, a proper apology for the " Fits" which the author accasionally falls into. Should his Pegasus be deemed neither a llosinante nor one of the long-cared quadrupeds, he may possibly again intrude upon the notice of the public, as " the fit takes him." Parker's I'icce, Cambridge Qet. 10,1633 FITS OF FOLLY, &c JOHN BULL AND MIS WIFE P ATT Y. Tune — Last week I took a wile. (Forty Thieves). John Bull a widow woed, The relict of one Paddy ; St. Patrick of her brood Was said to be the daddy. " Take me for better or for worse" Cried John, "thou'lt never rue it." Said she, ' The mare the better horse ' May prove, therefore Til do it.' The Honey-moon shews John Full clear what he'd been artcr ; " That brown he had been done" — " He'd caught a precious Tartar." John finds too late unto his cost, As up his smalls he twitches, His Patty dear will " rule the roast :" His wife will " wear the breeches." FITS OF FOLLY. She proved an arrant scold, — Her brats, like her, all lazy. She squander' d heaps of gold, Until poor John was crazy. What Johnny gave her, bully Dan Soon got into his clutches, And get it from him if you can Whatever once he touches. Dan begging went for rent, Like Gd Bias' sturdy beggar, Who if no alms were sent, Would quickly pull the trigger ; And when from ev'ry mother's son They'd snateh'd the last potato, Cried she and Dan, to simple John, ' Together we will hate you.' ' Your Church is all a hoax, ' Give us Emancipation. * We'll you no longer coax, 4 We'll give you agitation.' So Bull at length was bullied so He could no longer stand it, Said he, " go kiss the Pope's great toe- " Your claim — why I must grant it. FITS OF FOLLY. < " But mind, I'll hear no more " 'Bout this or that or 'tother, " Unto my heart's best core " 1 love you. But no bother." 1 We'll have no tithes' then cried the wife — Roar'd Dan, ' or tithing Parson ; " Tithe-takers all shall lose their life 4 With slaughter, pillage, arson.' John's cheeks grow red apace ; Fire from his eye-balls flashes. He storms till black i' the face, And all the crock'ry smashes. " Go, get you gone from out my sight — " A pretty help-mate, truly ! " My laws, religion, and all right " You'll ruin, thus unruly." ' Divorce,' cried she, ' I'll get, 4 And alimony plenty. 4 I'd have my own way yet 4 If husbands I had twenty. 4 No longer I'll live 'neath your sway, 4 Or with you hold communion ; 4 With me, you dog, you've had your day- ' So now repeal the Union.' 8 FITS OP FOLLT. Says John, " the law is passed " That binds us fast together, w With me your lot is cast " The storms of life to weather. "Nature's own self wont let us part ; " Such is our situation ; " Then let's unite in hand and heart " And make a mighty nation !" PRO AND CON; OR THE PLUM. TUNE, ' ' Come let's hear no more ! Sure I tolil you before J know the lull length of my tetlier, jbj lellirr," $ r.. {Love in a lilliue.) "My sweetest Mama — " The monster ! O la ! " I hope the old fellow wo'nt come, come, come.' ' You're a simpleton, Miss, ' You've nothing but bliss. * Your lover's possess'd of a plum, plum, plum.' FITS OF FOLLY. 9 " He's ugly and old ; " Now, pray, Ma, don't scold — " ' I say, Miss, against him be dumb, dumb, dumb ; ' Not ugly, tho' old, ' Are thousands in gold, ' And your lover pockets a plum, plum, plum.' " He's lost his right leg, — " ' Now no more I beg,' " And t'other's a stick for a drum, drum, drum." * No legs need he have, ' Nor hands need he crave, 1 Who can run on the bank for a plum, plum, plum.'' " He's got but one eye !" •Ofie! my child, fie!—' " And t'other he lears with so rum, rum, rum — " ' Pshaw ! he squints well enough ' Who can pry out the stuff ' And ogle at pleasure a plum, plum, plum.' " But Lord, Ma ! his breath " Would stench one to death, " His red fiery nose strikes one dumb, dumb, dumb." ' Your nose, you great calf, ' Is too nice by half — ' What's sweeter on earth than a plum, plum, plum?' IO KITS OF POLLY, 44 Not a stump has he got. " He's a drunkard — a sot — " ' Why, then, my dear girl, look so glum, glum, glum I 4 Teeth plenty, all new, 4 That in wiser heads grew ' He can buy in a trice with his plum, plum, plum. ' And for his sweet lass 1 An eye made of glass, ' Cork leg, and all else, for a sum, sum, sum, ' He'll instantly get,— « Tis folly to fret, 1 The world can be bought with a plum, plum, plum.' " He's sev-en-ty four ! — " 4 The sooner four score.' ' What's age in a man with a plum, plum, plum I 4 The sooner, dear Pop, 4 In your lap 'twill drop ' 44 No more, my dear Ma ! I am mum, mum, mum." FITS OF FOLLY. 1 1 'T HAS ALWAYS BEEN MY WAY. TUNE, There's line luck nbout (lie liousr. 'Melia Swift I gave a lift All in my one-horse shay. Said I for this I'll take one kiss — 'T has always been my way. Now Amy Swift, Tho' in a tift, Had not a word to say. So of each lip I took a sip — 'T has always been my way. Miss Martha Brown Was tumbling down And fainting one dog-day. I caught her charms, All in my arms — 'T has always been my way. Miss Patty Brown Should not fall down Unless she would me slay. 12 riTS OF 1 OI.LY. To the sweet thing I could but cling — 'T lias always been my way. Margaret White Was in a fright — Twas Smithfield cattle day. The beasts I stopt. On me she dropt — I'm always in the way. Peggy White, You killed me quite When bulls set you at bay. You darling dear, 1 feel it here ! 'T has always been my way. All in the rain Isabella Paine, I met so spruce and gay. " Umbrella dear," Said I, " is here"— 'T lias always been my way. " O Bella Paine, " You've turned my brain, II And the wind my new umbrella.' FITS OF FOLLY. 13 " Dear Paine, such joy u Can never cloy. — " O Bella ! Bella ! Bella !" MARY, CANST THOU CARE FOR ME? See'st thou, Mary, that fond pair? Loving live they, free from care ; Lov'd are by the playful throng That round them prattle all day long, Lisping little words of love, Toddling onwards through the grove. Care, of these, pure bliss must be. — Mary, canst thou care for me ? Bachelors and maids antique, Prey alike to spleen and pique ! Dead are they to woe or weal — Love they neither know nor feel : Men below and gods above — Some them pity, none them love. Mary, none shall pity thee — Can'st thou, wilt thou, care forme? 14 FITS OK FOLLY. Ifark ! the throstle, perch'd on high, Thrills his love-lay through the sky. Is not she supremely blest, Brooding o'er her love-warm'd nest, Cheer' d by all her chirping young, And her lover's sweetest song ? Love like this let my lot be : — Mary ! canst thou care for me ? WILD OATS ALL SOWN. 4 My heart was so free, It roved like the bee, 'Till Mary my passion requited. I chang'd ev'ry hour. I sipped ev'ry flow'r — But in Mary ev'ry flow'r is united. Her cheeks, blushing roses! Present sweetest posies, Commingled with lilies so fair. While over her lips, As lightly he trips, He breathes fragrant violets there. FITS OF FOLLY. 15 And heart's ease and blisses I snatch from those kisses, Those kisses so winsome und coy. Entwined in her arms, Sweet woodbine, your charms Entrance me with rapt' rous joy. Then sure, lovely Polly, 'Twere madness or folly To dream your fond lover untrue : For through the world wide, Tho' he sought for a bride, His choice, my love, fell upon you, ST. THOMAS'S DAY. I wedded my Mary, My own little dearie, By chance on St. Thomas's Day. In love and delight We passed day and night — The night of the shortest day. 1(] FITS OI? FOLLY. Yet, Mary, my soul, Tho' years they may roll, Time swiftly winging his way, Our love has not flown, But closer has grown, And stronger each Thomas's Day. He'll give us the slip, His wings we must clip, Compelling the urchin to stay ; Tho' in at the door, Come poverty sore, And sorrow in direful array, . We'll not let him pass, Through windows of glass, Or from us depart any way : But the last of life To us, my sweet wife, Shall be but St. Thomas's Day. TH1- SNOBS' TRIP TO PARIS; OR THE HUMOURS OF THE LONG VACATION. A FICTION, FOUNDED ON FACT. Voplum, non animum mutant qui trans mare eurrnnt." HOR. KJPIST. Wliattho' a Snob the seas may cross, Ami speml Wis ev'ry bob To sport the Marquis, Lord, or Duke, A Snob is still a Snob. THIRD EDITION. HINTS TO SUCH AS NEED THEM. At Cambridge all who do not belong to the University are denominated <: S)iobs." The Gentlemen of the University, as a body, are " The Gown;" and the Snobs, taken collectively, are called " The Town." The Gownsmen who have just arrived in College are distinguished by the appellation of "Freshmen." "Gyp" is a person who waits upon one or more Gownsmen to brush their clothes, go errands, and wait at table. TUE SNOBS' TRIP TO PARIS. Three merry wags old Granta had, Who, when the men went down, Deserting Halls and Colleges, Straight hied them up to Town. The one he was a " man of wax" The next sold creams and ice, The last, not least, was famed for punch, He frothed it up so nice. The "man of wax" stuck to the last, Nor ever left his stall ; Resolved was he both ends should meet, For which he used his all. FITS OF FOIXY. 1 9 And that lie of the syllabub Might get his due desert, All term, amid the sweets of life, You'd find him still alert. Nor absent from the social board, When Gownsmen drained the bowl, Was he whose skill alone could fill It mantling to the soul. But Gownsmen gone, there's nothing done; What boots it then to stop ? They'll pine for sport still ling'ring here, Then shall they shut up shop ? The shops are shut ; the Tele's off; All, all in merry cue ; King's pepper boxes dimly seen Are lessening to the view. Away they wheel, away they whirl, Right joyous each to find, That buried in the streams of Cam, They've left all cares behind. And now agog for higher life, Already perched aloft, And 'scaped the College tyrant few Who ever will be doffed, c 2 20 FITS OF FOLLY. The innate dignity of man Swells high each gen'rous breast, Distent the more, as usual is, From being long represt. And now the world being come to see, They reach the Land of Smoke ; Elate with new-born consequence, They feel like other folk. They've quit their little narrow sphere, Where long the mind was pent, Restrained by fifty petty kings, Whose will's their government ; And, whisked along to Islington, Through " Edmonton so gay," Like Gilpin bold, " on pleasure bent," Uproarious spend the day. They near the world's metropolis ; A thousand spires upspring, Swells vast and high Paul's mighty dome; King's Chapel's but a thing ! " And what are all the Colleges To what we now behold ! Why here are things ten times as grand ! The shops all glisten gold! FITS OF rou.Y. 21 " How magnified and beautiful Is that here place St. Luke's, I'm downright mad to live in it ; 'Tis made for Lords or Dukes ! " I've heard the square-capped Trenchermen Bepraise th' Asylum fields, But never knew before just now What place such pleasure yields." Thus rattling on in wond'rous talk, And rattling o'er the stones, Away they jolt right merrily, Nor once fear broken bones. Along they jar harmoniously Through many a lane and street; But Coacheee now, at Charing Cross, Down sets them on their feet. King Charles the First attracts their ken, On him they fix the eye, But Jarvie cries from off the stand, "Your honors, here ami." Now Jarvie's was a chariot, But into it they got With all the luggage they had brought, Which made them wond'rous hot. 22 FITS OF FOLLY. And straight then to a " Cambridge. House 11 They bid him ply the whip, Says he, "7 knows but only one" Drive on, cry they, yahip ! So through St. Martin's-lane roll they, And through the Dials Seven ; St. Giles' perfums next they smell, More like a hell than heaven I Along the road of Tottenham Court A full long mile or more, Like Falstaft' wallowing in his fat, They " lard the lean earth o'er ;" And sweltering still mid smoke and dust, The dog-day's glow enjoy, 'Till Mother Red-cap slakes their thirst, For they were dev'lish dry. And now they turn the place about, And traverse Camden Town : At Cambridge House Academy ! At last, he set them down ! When soon the sign they all descry Their purposes would cross, For entertainment none was here, Vor man not yet for horse. FITS OF FOLLY. 23 I shall not say, nor how they swore, Nor how they stamp'd about, Enough it was three deep they vowed That Jarvie they'd " sarve out." So Jarvie, nothing loth, did start To Bow-street to repair, Retracing back his lengthy road But to increase his fare. But soft'ning all along the way Soon as the street they spy, " Albeit unused to melting mood" To Garrick's Head they hie. And there was leering Jarvie paid Full dear for seven miles' ride, And for the sake of hush-money A go of gin besides ; That he the same might not unfold To landlord or his spouse The circumbendibus they took To find a " Cambridge House I Here snugly housed in London town, Just opposite the place Where Fanny, of the Kemble's chief, Displays such lovely grace ; 24 FITS OF FOLLY. Our heroes, now turned gentlemen, Attend the Table d'Hote, Which there mine host serves up at five, And charges next to nought. The dinner o'er, the wine they pour, And fuiaffthe punch around, But tho' the wine was wond'rous fine, The punch was puny found. 'Twas thin, and sky-blue milk they'd used, Nor did it foam like his, Whose godlike nectar fires " ike Gown" To deeds some judge amiss. But now elate was every pate, Right willing to be gay, So off to Covent Garden all Went straight to see the play. And soon they mount the lofty stairs, Being high and mighty men, And, like unto three lords at least, Assume the lofty mien. Yet wond'ring much at all they see, They pace the gay saloon, Where nymphs reclined on sofas soft, Had well-nigh made them swoon ! FITS OF FOLLY. 15 Such lovely fairies ! and so free ! Such ease and 'witching ways ! What pen can paint the constant blush That crimsons o'er each face ! Far whiter than the driven snow Is every heaving breast ! " What luscious ruby lips are there ! " By heavens ! I'm quite possessed. " And then such costly dresses too ! " And jewels rich and rare ! " Such pearly teeth ! such ivory arms ! " What eyes ! what flowing hair ! " I would I were a Nobleman, " To have so rich a prize, 44 For West-end duchesses alone " Can dress in such a guise." But whilst the marvelling speaker spoke, A marchioness did stir, And condescending archly said, '* Are you good nater'd, Sir ?" The Syren sounds slipt from her lips, And thrilled him through and through, That rank so high should " question pop" To one who'd make her shoe ! 26 fits of folly. With bow profound he scratched his pole, But in it nought could find, Save and except one only word, " My lady, you're too kind." Nor are his comrades less astound, As through the place they wend, For ladies twain sweet whispering said, " Sir, have you got a friend 1 " The Duke of D. is my good friend, " And twenty lords or more, " But still I have a corner left " For you in my heart's core." No sooner are these mighty words, By angel-tongue outpour'd, Presuming not reply to make, They utter not a word. But deeming each had conquest won Of lady of the land, And that the fair ones thought the three A tittle not less grand, For fear that " murder should come out" And they detected be, Forthwith they slink away in fright, Downright ungallantly ! KITS OF FOLLY. 27 Bat as they turn their heels about, And slip into the box, " There, there they go with (heir eye out," hear Which first them greatly shocks. And. yet they've heard the Gownsmen say That ladies of degree, Are free and easy every one, And often go to see Folk naked shewn in pictures fine Like Adam or like Eve, And statues sculptured to the life With not e'en a fig leaf. So still exalted are all three And nobler feel by far As down they sit all eyes agog T'observe a London Star. And now they hiss and now they clap, And with the gods keep tune, And mar the note of the sweetest throat By clapping her too soon ; Thus spoiling shakes and cadences, They sit out all the play, Nor do they see the Garrick's head Before 'tis break of day. 28 FITS OF FOLLY. ** They won't go home Ml morning" light, " Till daylight does appear" " Suchfudling boijs are we" sing they " We'll not go home this year." Then to the merry Finishes The Trio next repair, To Offley's, Henrietta-street, Where they had sumptuous fare ; And then adovvn the cellar dark, So famed in Maiden-lane, They go determined on a lark, All merry, might and main ; And Lions being come to see, The Coal-Hole next decend, And thence The Hole Vthe Wall they view, When — night comes to an end ; But not their frolic, nor their freak, For now being primed for fun, Off off they fly by the Brighton coach As swift as from a gnn. Crying " that's the ticket" " that's the go" And such like Gownsmen's slang, With a whew amid each classic phrase, Achieved by tip of tongue. FITS OF FOLLY. 29 Thro 1 Reigate and thro' Crawley quick They merrily raise the dust, And all the way keep moist'ning clay, Or choke they surely must ; And in the Coachee's throat's a spark, Which rivers ne'er could quench, So him they ply with grog all dry, And joyously they drench. But now at last their wonderment The King's Pavilion greets ; Its hundred domes and minarets Each eye in rapture meets. And still as through the streets they roll, They stare as though insane, No wat'ring place they'd seen but that Called " Fornication- Lane." In Brighton's gay and flaunting town, Such jovial scenes are there, Our travellers three would happy be, To revel all the year. But now the " tow'r"' they mean to take, In eight days and no more " Push on, keep moving," bids them straight, Quick marching to the shore. 3 ( > fits 01 foi.ly. For " time and tide for no man wait," Nor does the Steamer too ; By steam to France they go to dance — To England bid adieu ! Right gaily and advent 1 rously They scale the packet's deck, Which, scudding swiftly through the wave Leaves Brighton but a speck. Round roll the paddles 'mid the surge, Harmonious sounds the band, Nor less in unison are they, Who've left their native land. On deck above or down below, Some sing, some dance, some play, While others tete a tele make love ; All cheerily glide away. Till now the " seasoned-casks" of Cam, At sea, being Freshmen, all, Reel larboard, starboard, 'fore and aft, Nor 'scape full many a fall • For " half seas over" long they'd got, Ere once they saw the sea, Nor did they think "potations //ij'n" Would help me on their way ; F1TE OF FOLLY. Nor heed the trem'lous Steamer's shake, Nor rumbling of her flanks, Till all at once, with dizzied sconce, They useless find their shanks. And trundling like unto a hoop, Or like a barrel-churn, Intestine storms and broils they raise, And decency they spurn ; For never since the spree began, Had they once cast accounts. But now being seriously inclined, Produce the full amouut. Nor is it they alone who, tossed, Amid the ocean's surge, Must reck'ning give of all they've eat ; There's now a general purge. Exceptions none will Neptune take, But still wants one mite more, Though emptied all are by the squall, Which wafts them -safe ashore. And now the heroes fallen three, The deck they strut about, Resolved again to come to life Although so well " cleaned out." 31 3*2 FITS OF FOLI.Y. And now the Monsiturs at Dieppe, With shrugs and soft grimace, Run bending, bowing, all to aid The three " Mi Lor Anglais.'''' " Mi Lors they lead right courteously Unto a grand Hotel, Where frogs, sonp-maigre, fricassee, Send forth a savory smell ; A smell which ere they reach the spot, Such dainties does disclose, That guides they needed none, I trow ; They'd find it by the nose. For that they follow, nothing loth, Soon reach the stews and slops, And, though their steak's not ready yet, "Quite ready are their chops." So without muckle more ado, "Mi Lor Anglais,"' John Bull, Gulps frogs by dozens, " cuts''' the steaks, And fills him to the full. At table there is ordinaire ; Then Burgundy, Champaigne ; And since such lush must needs have busk., The brandy bowl they drain. FITS OF FOLLY. 33 The Cogniac real ginanwine, The genuine Eau de vie, That staff of life, had now restored To strength the jovial three. When loud the guard o' th' Diligence, The Conducteur I mean, For Paris calls all passengers, Fed, hungry, fat and lean. And now the motley group he stows Inside or on the out, Or with him on the Cabriolet, Or th' Imperial ranged about. The Coupe suits " Mi Lors Angtais," Who sit therein in state, For since they set a foot in France They're numbered with the Great. They're English nobles every one ; The Frenchmen call them so, Until at length, old Cam forgot, They think " that here's the go." The Man of Puffs assumes the Duke, And Punch becomes a Lord, Whilst he of Wax, thinks it no tax A Marquess to afford. 31 FITS OF FOLLV. With traveling titles thus prepared,. Far oil" from Cambridge Dons, Away in state they go elate All in fhe Diligence. The roads so fine of Normandy, With English speed they pass, And all the way, the French so gay, Are dancing lad and lass ; Right blithesome is each jocund phi/,, As circling steps they take, So that our English nobles three Suppose it feast or wake. For all the way at even-tide, From Dieppe to Rouen, They find the men and maidens all, Disport in dance or song. Nor as the horses, three in front, With wheelers two at tail, Draw on the locomotive town, Does erer mirth them fail. They pass along amid the clang Of sounds that wake the soul, From fiddle shrill and wooden shoe, And gaily on they roll. FITS OF FOLLY. 35 And now they've passed that city fair Which Frenchmen call Rouen And on the way to Paris straight Are driving fast along. Across the road already hang The lamps from tree to tree; Pears, apples, and the clust'ring grapes " Hang out" invitingly ; For now St. Denis is in sight, Nor far off is Paris, And soon the barrier now they reach And pass Porte St. Denis. And now our Cantabrigians bold, Just as the sun goes down, Tho' Snobs all three and Cantabs none, As nobles come to town. And tho' for nights and days full three, They've not of sleep had wink, In Paris now arrived elate, Still still shall fly the chink. But first the grandest of the sights, Forthwith they go to see, And soon the Boulevardes round thoy go, AH fun and jollity. 36 FITS OF FOLLY. Right royally quaffing as they go, They sip at each Cafe, In Palais Royal, here and there, And French they tip aufait. At least such French as understood, Is soon in every land, When V argent from the purse out rolls Enforcing aach command. And thus they wend their way about, And satisfy the sight, But damsels fair or lions rare, Don't suit strong appetite. So to a grand Cafe they go And sport Lord, Marquess, Duke ; The Gargons bend and bow and scrape And then they bid them cook A dinner fit for Englishmen, For British Nobles three, And serve it in the best salon, Excluding company. The dinner served, "Mi Lors Anglais," Surround the ample feast, And as they eager eye the fare, And nothing want of zest, FITS OF PuI,LT. 37 Three of the Holy Trinity, At Cambridge Fellows rare, Step into this superbe Hotel, Demanding bill of fare, And Dinner in the best salon, Which by the Nobles three, Being taken now, they could not have, As any one may see. But then they ask who are the guests, And quickly it is told, ,Three nobles grand from Cambridge they, Three magnifiques so bold. " From Cambridge are they? " cry all three, " We know them, ten to one : Come, Monsieur Garcon, lead the way" — No sooner said than done. The Fellows three of Trinity, Are usherd every one ; — The Duke, the Marquess and the Lord Are eager to be gone, The Lords they would have slunk away, Right glad a hole to find, But Trinity, who loves a spree, Is of a different mind ; 88 FITS OF FOLLY. And bids the three right easy be : For Cambridge Snob or Cyp, Mi Lor shall be, of high degree, Whene'er he takes a trip. EPIGRAMS. *' I see," said Tom Idle, " your pages you're proving." " Sit you down," said I, pointing to one of the seats ; " Sit down, my good fellow, and think not of moving ; Having just finished one I will rest 'tween the sheets." Tom Moody, Tom Moody's a shocking sad fellow ; Complaint is his only profession. He's dying with hunger e'en while him you'ro filling. When full he is killed with oppression. Frank Findfault said the other day, You were not fit to lead a bear. And what the devil did you say? Of course, I vowed I thought you wpre. F!TS OF FOLLY. 39 " Tea thousand pounds a piece," a townsman said " I'll give my daughters if they gownsmen wed." Says Trin'ty Pat, " I'm just the lad for you, By Jasus ! I'll be afther taking two." THE PENNY. In these wonderful days, the most wondrous of any Of the things of the age, you will now find the Penny — Magazines for a penny you can purchase in plenty That a year since, or less, you would jump at for tw enty Penny whistles and trumpets we have had in all ages, Bnt in this, for the game, we've the wisdom of sages : For an ounce of base copper we've such lots of knowledge, That 'tis folly extremest to come up to College. — To be brief, — if the love of the Penny increases, On the pave, very soon, we shall find Penny Pieces, FINIS. Printed bj J. R. Marshall, 164, Fleet Street. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L'J-50m-4,'61(B8994s4)444 £/#/? Linn Aiiy AA 000 391 193