ces I have so often rendered you: think how often, when you
were about to enter upon the stupendous folio, or the dull and
massy quarto, four inches at least in thickness, think, O think,
how often my timely, though unpromising appearance, has warned you
not to encumber your brain with the incalculable load of lumber!
With me, then, let the glorious work of reformation commence,
restore me to the honour and esteem I so justly deserve. I, for my
part, shall still continue to be a spy upon stupidity, and oft
shall you receive the reward of your benevolence from my friendly
and seasonable admonitions."

"Hezekiah Shortcut,
O tempora! O mores!"

The poem is in two cantos: the first of which thus opens,--

Long have I viewed the folly and the sin
That fill this wicked globe of ours, call'd earth,
And once a secret impulse felt within
My bosom, to convert it into mirth;
But then the voice of pity, softly sighing,
Hinted the subject was more fit for crying.

Democritus was once a Grecian sage--
A famous man, as every one must know--
But rather fond of sneering at the age,
And turning into laughter human wo;
Another sage, Heraclitus to wit,
Considered it more wise to weep for it.
I can't determine which of them was right,
Nor can I their respective merits see;
The subject, disputation may invite,
But that belongs to wiser men than me.
It has already been discuss'd by one,
A better judge by far (see Fenelon.)

Verse the twelfth touches upon a topic with which its writer was
destined afterwards, for a short time, to be practically familiar.

How sweet a fee unto the youthful lawyer
Never before presented with a brief,
To whose distressing case some kind employer
Steps in, and brings his generous relief;
Thus giving him a chance to show _that_ merit
So long kept down by the world's envious spirit.

Here is the little practical moralist's advice to the ladies!--

Ye ladies, list! and to my words attend,
They're for your good, as you shall quickly see.
Sit down by the fireside, your stockings mend,
And never mingle spirits with your tea.
When you retire at night, put out the candle,
Discard your lap-dogs, leave off talking scandal.

When card-tables are set, you must not play
For ought beyond the value of one shilling:
This is