He gazed long on its tarnished hue,
And mourned the fix he'd gotten in;
Then filled his eyes with contrite dew,
As in its folds his nose he blew,
And thus addressed his model U-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin.

'Thou crownless king, thy days are few;
The world thou art forgotten in;
Ere thou dost die, thy life review,
Repent thy crimes, thy wrongs undo,
Give freedom to the dusky crew
Whose blood now stains the model U-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin!'

A SORROWFUL DIALOGUE.

FRIEND OF HUMANITY.

Needy axe-grinder! whither are you going?
Sad is your visage, sadder far your raiment,
Rimless your hat, your coat has got a hole in't,
So have your trowsers!

Seedy axe-grinder! little know the great ones,
Who buy fat jobs, and steal the public lucre,
What times befall the poverty-stricken devils
Who grind their axes!

Tell me, axe-grinder, how you came so seedy?
Did some great man ungratefully entreat you?
Was it FERNANDO, first king of our Gotham,
Or the Collector?

Or did some evil WEED set you to burning
The Cataline, and pocket all the plunder;
Or did the patriot BEN engulf your little
All in a lottery?

Tell me, axe-grinder! 'tell me how you cum so:'
'Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids,
Ready to fall the moment you have told your
Pitiful story.'

AXE-GRINDER.

Story! God bless you! mine is sad to tell, sir;
The gratitude of great men drove me downward,
Reduced me to these shoddy coat and trowsers
So sad and seedy!

Listen! while I disclose the secrets of the
Mansion which standeth on Broadway, where strangers
Are taken in and done for at two dollars
And a half per diem.

There congregate Lord THURLOW, ALEXANDER
The Wonder of the World, and they who pull the
Wool o'er the eyelids of the veteran Com-
Missary-general.

And there, while they within did manufacture
The ways and means to 'work' this foul rebellion,
I kept the door without, and turned the grindstone
Which ground their axes.

And daily to their private closet came one
Called ORSAMUS, of fame in all the churches,
Whose savory name smells sweetly to all lovers
Of public plunder.

'Twas queer the ex-(tra) congress man resorted
There; strange they were to all invisible when
_His_ oily visage, like a magic lantern,
Lit th