You heed nor one nor t'other, 'And ever as he wanders, Your little steady eyes, Tom, Though not so bright as those That restless round about him His flashing genius throws, Are excellently suited To look before your nose. "Thank heaven, then, for the blinkers 'And though my lands are wide, Too dull to feel depression, Too cold to yield to passion March on your road is open To wealth, Tom, and success. • Ned sinneth in extravagance, 'In you, son Tom, I've confidence, 'Wherefore my lease and copyholds, My Dutch stock and my Spanish stock, I leave to you, my Thomas' (What, all?' poor Edward said, Well, well, I should have spent them, And Tom's a prudent head.') 'I leave to you, my Thomas, To you IN TRUST for Ned.' The wrath and consternation, Came o'er Prince Tom his face; The wonder of the company And honest Ned's amaze? 'Tis surely some mistake,' Good-naturedly cries Ned; The lawyer answered gravely, 'Tis even as I said; 'Twas thus his gracious Majesty Ordain'd on his deathbed. 'See here the will is witness'd, 'Alas! my kind young gentleman, "He hath a store of money, Who knows not how to spend it. “Poor Edward knows but how to spend, And thrifty Tom to hoard; Let Thomas be the steward then, And Edward be the lord; And as the honest labourer Is worthy his reward, "I pray Prince Ned, my second son, And my successor dear, G Το pay to his intendant Five hundred pounds a year, Such was old Brentford's honest testament. Long time the famous reign of Ned endured But of extravagance he ne'er was cured. And when both died, as mortal men will do, 'Twas commonly reported that the steward Was very much the richer of the two. W. M. Thackeray. HAMELIN Town's in Brunswick, ; Almost five hundred years ago, Rats! They fought the dogs and killed the cats, And bit the babies in the cradles, And ate the cheeses out of the vats, And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles, the kegs of salted sprats, Split open Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats III At last the people in a body To the Town Hall came flocking: 'Tis clear,' cried they, 'our Mayor's a noddy; And as for our Corporation-shocking To think we buy gowns lined with ermine |