;
upon which his lordship asked for a piece of chalk and a slate, and
composed the following _jeu d'esprit_ on the circumstance:--
I'm truly shocked that Devon's hounds
The gentle ass has slain;
For _me_ to shun his lordship's grounds,
It seems a warning plain.
* * * * *
CONTINUATIONS FROM CHINA.
It is generally reported that the usual _drill_ continuations of the
British tars are about to be altered by those manning the fleet off China,
who purpose adopting _Nankin_ as soon as possible.
* * * * *
THE VERY "NEXT" JONATHAN.
There is a Quaker in New Orleans so desperate _upright_ in all his
dealings, that he won't sit down to eat his meals.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
POOR JACK.
A sailor ashore, after a long cruise, is a natural curiosity. Twenty-four
hours' liberty has made him the happiest dog in existence; and the only
drawback to his perfect felicity, is the difficulty of getting rid of his
prize-money within the allotted time. It must, however, be confessed, that
he displays a vast deal of ingenuity in devising novel modes of spending
his rhino. Watches, trinkets, fiddlers, coaches, grog, and girls, are the
long-established and legitimate modes of clearing out his lockers; but
even these means are sometimes found inadequate to effect the desired
object with sufficient rapidity. When there happens to be a number of
brother-tars similarly employed, who have engaged all the coaches,
fiddlers, and sweethearts in the town, it is then that Jack is put to his
wits'-end; and it is only by buying cocked-hats and top-boots for the
boat's-crew, or some such absurdity, that he can get all his cash
scattered before he is obliged to return on board. This is a picture of a
sailor _ashore_, but a sailor _aground_ is a different being altogether.
An unlucky shot may deprive him of a leg or arm; he may be frost-nipped at
the pole, or get a _coup de soleil_ in the tropics, and then be turned
upon the world to shape his course amongst its rocks and shallows, with
the bitter blast of poverty in his teeth. But Jack is not to be beaten so
easily; although run aground, he refuses to strike his flag, and, with a
cheerful heart, goes forth into the highways and byeways to sing "the
dangers of the sea," and, to collect from the pitying passers-by, the
coppers that drop, "like angel visits," into his little oil-s
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