Dear me! what a treat for a juvenile fête! What thousands will flock their arrival to greet! There'll be hardly a soul to be seen in the street, For at Vauxhall the whole population will meet, And you'll scarcely get standing-room, much less a seat, For this all preceding attraction must beat: Since, they'll unfold, what we want to be told, How they cough'd,—how they sneez'd,—how they shiver'd with cold,— How they tippled the "cordial" as racy and old As Hodges, or Deady, or Smith ever sold, And how they all then felt remarkably bold: How they thought the boil'd beef worth its own weight in gold; And how Mr. Green was beginning to scold Because Mr. Mason would try to lay hold Of the moon, and had very near overboard roll'd!
And there they'll be seen—they'll be all to be seen! The great-coats, the coffee-pot, mugs, and tureen! With the tight rope, and fire-works, and dancing between, If the weather should only prove fair and serene, And there, on a beautiful transparent screen, In the middle you'll see a large picture of Green, Mr. Hollond on one side, who hired the machine, Mr. Mason on t'other, describing the scene; And Fame, on one leg, in the air, like a queen, With three wreaths and a trumpet, will over them lean; While Envy, in serpents and black bombazin, Looks on from below with an air of chagrin!
Then they'll play up a tune in the Royal Saloon, And the people will dance by the light of the moon, And keep up the ball till the next day at noon; And the peer and the peasant, the lord and the loon, The haughty grandee, and the low picaroon, The six-foot life-guardsman, and little gossoon, Will all join in three cheers for the "Monstre" Balloon.
It is much to be regretted that I have not as yet been able to discover more than a single specimen of my friend "Sucklethumbkin's" Muse. The event it alludes to, probably the euthanasia of the late Mr. Greenacre, will scarcely have yet faded from the recollection of an admiring public. Although, with the usual diffidence of a man of fashion, Augustus has "sunk" the fact of his own presence on that interesting occasion, I have every reason to believe, that, in describing the party at the auberge hereafter mentioned, he might have said, with a brother Exquisite, "Quorum pars magna fui."
[HON. MR. SUCKLETHUMBKIN'S STORY. —— THE EXECUTION.]
A SPORTING ANECDOTE.
My Lord Tomnoddy got up one day; It was half after two, He had nothing to do, So his Lordship rang for his cabriolet.
Tiger Tim Was clean of limb, His boots were polish'd, his jacket was trim; With a very smart tie in his smart cravat, And a smart cockade on the top of his hat; Tallest of boys, or shortest of men, He stood in his stockings just four foot ten; And he ask'd, as he held the door on the swing, "Pray, did your Lordship please to ring?"