The price of cattle and grain, my boy, To tell you in song A quarter of all they contain, my boy. THE CITIZEN AND THE THIEVES. From a Pamphlet, published in 1609. A CITIZEN, for recreation's sake, To see the country would a journey take Taking his leave with friends two months before, And as he rideth, meets upon the way Such as (what haste soever) bid men stay. 'Sirrah,' says one, 'stand, and your purse deliver, I am a taker, thou must be a giver. Unto a wood, hard by, they hail him in, 'Misters,' quoth he, 'pray hear me ere you go; For you have robb'd me more than you do know, My horse, in truth, I borrow'd of my brother; The bridle and the saddle of another; The jerkin and the bases, be a tailor's ; Her husband knows not of it, gentle man! Thus stands my case-I pray show favour then.' 'Why,' quoth the thieves, thou needst not greatly care, Since in thy loss so many bear a share; The world goes hard, and many good folks lack, Go, tell at London thou didst meet with four, THE JOVIAL PRIEST'S CONFESSION. Translated from the Latin of Walter de Mapes, time of Henry II. BY LEIGH HUNT. I DEVISE to end my days—in a tavern drinking, May some Christian hold for me-the glass when I am shrinking, That the cherubim may cry-when they see me sinking, God be merciful to a soul-of this gentleman's way of thinking. A glass of wine amazingly—enlighteneth one's internals; 'Tis wings bedew'd with nectar--that fly up to supernals; Bottles crack'd in taverns-have much the sweeter kernals, Than the sups allowed to us-in the college journals. Every one by nature hath-a mould which he was cast in; I happen to be one of those who never could write fasting; By a single little boy-I should be surpass'd in Writing so I'd just as lief-be buried; tomb'd and grass'd in. Every one by nature hath—a gift too, a dotation : Just as liquor floweth good-floweth forth my lay so; But I must moreover eat-or I could not say so; Naught it availeth inwardly-should I write all day so; But with God's grace after meat—I beat Ovidius Naso. Neither is there given to me-prophetic animation, Unless when I have ate and drank-yea, ev'n to satura tion; Then in my upper storey-hath Bacchus domination, And Phoebus rushes into me, and beggareth all relation. THE COLLEGIAN AND THE PORTER. J. R. PLANCHÉ. J. R. Planché, Esq., is well known as one of the most successful of living play-wrights, and also as a distinguished member of the Society of Antiquaries. He may be said to be the founder of the modern school of burlesque, as he is certainly the ablest writer who has turned his attention to that popular class of dramatic composition. Mr. Planché in his early days wrote a number of humorous pieces in the style of Colman and Peter Pindar, many of which have become highly popular. He now holds the office of Rouge Croix Pursuivant in the Herald Office. AT Trin. Coll. Cam.-which means, in proper spelling, That is he understood computing The odds at any race or match; Was a dead hand at pigeon-shooting; Could kick up rows-knock down the watch— Play truant and the rake at random— Drink-tie cravats-and drive a tandem. Remonstrance, fine, and rustication, Seem'd but to make his lapses greater, One need not be a necromancer To guess, that, with so wild a wight, Home, as the midnight chimes were tolling, And rang the College Bell. No answer. The second peal was vain-the third Made the street echo its alarum, When to his great delight he heard Rousing and growling in his den. 'Who's there?—I s'pose young Harum-scarum.' "Tis I, my worthy Ben-'tis Harry.' 'Ay, so I thought-and there you'll tarry. 'Tis past the hour-the gates are closed- 'I'm wet,' cried Harry, 'to the skin, S |