How swift the merry hours spin by from dewy morn to eve.
The goat-carts never want for fares fresh from their nurses' arms,
All day the patient donkeys bear some maid's or matron's charms.
The haughty ones may carp and sneer, we know their sorry style,
But we who revel on this shore can hear them with a smile.
We may be vulgar; what's the odds? We're cottage-folk, not "Grands,"
And our simple pleasures please us on the jolly Ramsgate Sands.
DRURIOLANUS'S NEXT.—The Prodigal Daughter is to be produced, when she's of proper age to come out, at Drury Lane. Who gave her that name? Is it her "Pettitt nom," or was it her Godfather, Sir DRURIOLANUS LE GRAND, or was it the joint effort of GRAND et PETTITT, so as to satisfy all comers Great and Small? The Prodigal Son has already served as the title of an Opera directly founded on the Scriptural parable of the Prodigal, and has recently been used as the title of the now famous ballet d'action. There was also a Père Prodigue—which the English schoolboy thought was French for an uncommonly big Marie Louise specimen; so there is justification and authority for bringing this new member of The Prodigal family before the Public. Having once started, there maybe no end to the family of Prodigals. There will follow—The Prodigal Aunt, The Prodigal Uncle, The Prodigal Second Cousin by first Husband's Marriage, and so on, ad infinitum.