By the tinge of the parson’s red nose, that he dips,
With a smile of contentment, so oft in his wine,
How glorious to bask, and not open my lips,
Save to tell to the world how divinely I dine.
Every table, &c.
Diogenes, vol. 3, p. 200. 1854.
Clubs not Trumps.
I knew by the smoke that so heavily curled
From the roof of each club-house the Carlton was near;