For oh! the brain gets very dull and dry,

Selling from morn till night for cash or credit;

Or with a vacant face and vacant eye,

Watching cheap prints that Knight did never edit.

Till sick with toil, and lassitude extreme,

We often think, when we are dull and vapoury, The bliss of Paradise was so supreme,

Because that Adam did not deal in drapery.

94

THE BACHELOR'S DREAM.

My pipe is lit, my grog is mix'd,
My curtains drawn and all is snug;
Old Puss is in her elbow-chair,

And Tray is sitting on the rug.
Last night I had a curious dream,

Miss Susan Bates was Mistress Mogg—

What d'ye think of that, my Cat?
What d'ye think of that, my Dog?

She look'd so fair, she sang so well,
I could but woo and she was won,
Myself in blue, the bride in white,

The ring was placed, the deed was done!

Away we went in chaise-and-four, As fast as grinning boys could flog— What d'ye think of that, my Cat?

What d'ye think of that, my Dog?

What loving tête-à-têtes to come! But tête-à-têtes must still defer! When Susan came to live with me, Her mother came to live with her! With sister Belle she couldn't part, But all my ties had leave to jogWhat d'ye think of that, my Cat? What d'ye think of that, my Dog?

The mother brought a pretty Poll—
A monkey too, what work he made!
The sister introduced a Beau—
My Susan brought a favourite maid.
She had a tabby of her own,-
A snappish mongrel christen'd Gog-
What d'ye think of that, my Cat?
What d'ye think of that, my Dog?

The Monkey bit-the Parrot scream'd,
All day the sister strumm'd and sung ;
The petted maid was such a scold!
My Susan learn'd to use her tongue :
Her mother had such wretched health,
She sate and croak'd like any frog—
What d'ye think of that, my Cat?
What d'ye think of that, my Dog?

No longer Deary, Duck, and Love,
I soon came down to simple "M!"
The very servants cross'd my wish,
My Susan let me down to them.
The poker hardly seem'd my own,
I might as well have been a log-
What d'ye think of that, my Cat?
What d'ye think of that, my Dog?

My clothes they were the queerest shape!

Such coats and hats she never met!
My ways they were the oddest ways!
My friends were such a vulgar set!

Poor Tomkinson was snubb'd and huff'dShe could not bear that Mister BloggWhat d'ye think of that, my Cat?

What d'ye think of that, my Dog?

At times we had a spar, and then
Mama must mingle in the song-
The sister took a sister's part-

The Maid declared her Master wrong-
The Parrot learn'd to call me 66 Fool!"
My life was like a London fog—
What d'ye think of that, my Cat?
What d'ye think of that, my Dog?

My Susan's taste was superfine,
As proved by bills that had no end-

I never had a decent coat

I never had a coin to spend !

She forced me to resign my Club,

Lay down my pipe, retrench my grog

What d'ye think of that, my Cat?

What d'ye think of that, my Dog?

H