COUNTRY COMMISSIONS.
"Mr. Hume moved for a list of all Commissions issued between the 1st of April, 1833, and the 1st of April, 1837, and of the expenses incurred thereon."
Parliamentary Register.
Twenty times have I taken my pen,
And began my dear Julia's name,
Twenty times have I dropped it again,
For I'm burning all over with shame.
How lucky I am to possess
A kind friend to rely on, like you!
And—'tis shocking—I'm bound to confess
That my billets are all billets-do.
But to come to the point, dearest dear,—
Your affection will pardon it all—
You must know, the long thread of our year
Is wound up by an annual ball.
Only think! in this dismal abode
To have nothing that's stylish or new!
We are centuries out of the mode,
Though we live in a manor, 'tis true.
And I want a few trifles in haste;
'Tis too bad—for you've plenty to do—
But I know you've such excellent taste,
And I'll leave it entirely to you.
So get me, from Waterloo Place,
(What you pay I shall never regard)
Twenty yards of the best Brussels lace,
At exactly two guineas a yard.
From Harding's twelve yards of French satin,
That beautiful pearly-white hue—
'Tis a matter, I know, that you're pat in,
So I'll leave it entirely to you.
Of course, there can be no objection
To make it a bargain quite plain,
That if it don't suit my complexion
You'll trouble them with it again.
Five bouquets of roses from Foster's,
And a circlet of white Maraboût—
(I consider all others' impostors,
But I leave that entirely to you.)
Un oiseau paradis may be sent
To surmount a chapeau paille de riz
For mamma—for she's never content—
How different, dear Julia, from me!
There is but one man in the town,
Who can make me a white satin shoe;
Do find him, and send me some down,
So I'll leave it entirely to you.
Oh! a scarf I shall want, by-the-bye,
Of that very particular hue
Which belongs to "the Seraph's blue eye,"
(In dear Moore,) so I leave it to you.
And now I'm equipped for my jig,
I'll finish my begging petition—
(Pa says I'm as bad as a Whig;
Such a dab to get up a commission.)
But I'll thank you to buy, for Miss Green
A nice little stone and a muller;
And just paper enough for a screen—
Every sheet of a different colour.
Here's a note for Miss White at the Tower;
You must take it some day before two,
For she always goes out at that hour,
So I leave it entirely to you.
If it's all in your way coming back,
Just call at the Grove, Kentish Town,
And look in at the school of young Black—
His mamma wants to know if he's grown.
And next summer, when Pa comes to town,
He shall pay you whatever is due,
If you'll send the particulars down;
But I'll leave that entirely to you.
SEPTEMBER.—Michaelmas Gander.
1 St. Giles. The faithful Scroggins lifted to the skies,
A consternation in his Molly's eyes.
6. Stratford Jubilee, 1769.
"Mother! mother! take in the clothes: here be the players a-coming!"