on. We travelled in the cab by easy stages, and halted only
at great houses on the road, beginning with Plas Newyd, and ending at
Sion House. My master's rank, and my talents, were as good as board
wages to us; and as the summer was not yet sufficiently advanced for
the London winter, we found every body at home, and had an amazingly
pleasant time. My master was enchanted with his acquisition. I made the
_frais_ of every society; and my repartees and bonmots furnished
the Lord Johns and Lady Louisas with subjects for whole reams of pink
and blue note-paper. My master frequently said, "That bird is wonderful!
he is a great catch!"--and my fame had spread over the whole west end of
the town a full week before our arrival in London.

_The Metropolitan_, No. I.

* * * * *

LONDON LYRICS,

PROVERBS.

My good Aunt Bridget, spite of age,
Versed in Valerian, Dock, and Sage,
Well knew the Virtues of herbs;
But Proverbs gain'd her chief applause,
"Child," she exclaimed, "respect old saws,
And pin your faith on Proverbs."

Thus taught, I dubb'd my lot secure;
And, playing long-rope, "slow and sure,"
Conceived my movement clever;
When lo! an urchin by my side
Push'd me head foremost in, and cried--
"Keep Moving," "Now or Never,"

At Melton, next, I join'd the hunt,
Of bogs and bushes bore the brunt,
Nor once my courser held in;
But when I saw a yawning steep,
I thought of "Look before you leap,"
And curb'd my eager gelding.

While doubtful thus I rein'd my roan,
Willing to save a fractured bone,
Yet fearful of exposure,
A sportsman thus my spirit stirr'd--
"Delays are dangerous;"--I spurr'd
My steed, and leap'd th' enclosure.

I ogled Jane, who heard me say
That "Rome was not built in a day,"
When lo: Sir Fleet O'Grady
Put this, my saw, to sea again,
And proved, by running off with Jane,
"Faint heart ne'er won fair Lady."

Aware "New Brooms sweep clean," I took
An untaught tyro for a cook,
(The tale I tell a fact is)
She spoilt my soup; but, when I chid,
She thus once more my work undid,
"Perfection comes from Practice."

Thus, out of every adage hit,
And, finding that ancestral wit
As changeful as the clime is:
From Proverbs, turning on my heel,
I now cull Wisdom from my seal,
Who's motto's "Ne quid nimis."

_New Monthly Magazine._

* *