FISHER'S LAKE SCENERY.

Among sweet April showers there's no dangler

So persevering as your fervent angler:

Left, by less fond companions, in the lurch,

Upon his lonely boat he'll take his perch,

And fish for ever there by line and rule,

His poets must be all of the Lake school,

The only prose writers he'd ever brook,

In social brotherhood, are Pool and Hook;

Beat him on land, he thinks the insult odd,

Beat him by water, and he'll kiss the rod;

Has he a secret you would know past doubt,

Your only chance with him's to worm it out:

Take him abroad to ride, he'd rather die

Than have a coach, if he could get a fly:

He'd like to sit for life upon a raft,

In perpetuity of gentle craft!

What if a little hostel, by the stream,

Offer "fish, gratis!" what is that to him?

He'd rather sit, when clouds have hid the sun,

Between the rain and river, catching none.

What are the jolly inmates all about?

Drinking warm brandy, genial ale, or stout:—

And he? Oh! he is taking cold without!

12. Easter Monday.

"Mayn't I go to the fair, ma'am?" Bet inquires;

"Suppose all sorts of evils there beset you:"

"Missis, I aint that sort of girl, you know,

Harmless fair fun is all as I desires:"

"Well, if the weather's fair enough to go,

I think it will be only fair to let you:"

So fair, fair girl, fair day, and fair permission,

With the fare to the fair crown Bet's condition!

Poet's corner.

23. Death of Shakspeare, 1616.

"Sweet Bard of Avon!"—"Well," says Jack, "how you

Can call him Bard of A-won, goodness knows!

I'm sure as I don't: stop! I think I do;

He stands A 1, at Poet's Lloyd's, I s'pose!"

I say, lend me a crown!

I've only three shillings in my pocket:

Well, hand them over, and then you'll owe me two!