As for puffing,-that first of all lit'rary boons,
And essential alike both to bards and balloons;
As, unless well supplied with inflation, 't is found
Neither bards nor balloons budge an inch from the

ground ;

In this respect, nought could more prosp'rous befal; As my friend (for no less this kind imp can I call) Knows the whole world of critics, dear, hypers and

all.

I suspect, indeed, he himself dabbles in rhyme,
Which, for imps diabolic, is not the first time;

As I've heard uncle Bob say, 'twas known among

Gnostics,

That the Dev'l on Two Sticks was a dev'l at

Acrostics.

But hark! there's the Magnet just dash'd in from

Town

How my heart, Kitty, beats! I shall surely drop

That awful Court Journal, Gazette, Athenæum,
All full of my book-I shall sink when I see 'em.
And then, the great point whether Simkins & Co.
Are actually pleas'd with their bargain or no! -

Five o'clock.

All's delightful - such praises! - I really fear That this poor little head will turn giddy, my dear. I've but time now to send you two exquisite scraps, All the rest by the Magnet, on Monday, perhaps.

FROM THE "MORNING POST."

'Tis known that a certain distinguished physician Prescribes, for dyspepsia, a course of light reading; And Rhymes by young Ladies, the first, fresh edition,

(Ere critics have injur'd their powers of nutrition,) Are he thinks, for weak stomachs, the best sort of feeding.

Satires irritate-love-songs are found calorific;
But smooth, female sonnets he deems a specific,
And, if taken at bed-time, a sure soporific.
Among works of this kind, the most pleasing we know,
Is a volume just published by Simkins and Co.,
Where all such ingredients, the flowery, the sweet,
And the gently narcotic, -are mix'd per receipt,
With a hand so judicious, we've no hesitation
To say that 'bove all, for the young generation,
'Tis an elegant, soothing and safe preparation.

Nota bene for readers, whose object's to sleep,
And who read, in their night-caps, the publishers keep
Good fire-proof binding, which comes very cheap.

ANECDOTE-FROM THE "COURT JOURNAL."

T'other night, at the Countess of * * *'s rout,
An amusing event was much whisper'd about.
It was said that Lord, at the Council, that day,
Had, more than once, jump'd from his seat, like
a rocket,

And flown to a corner, where, heedless, they say,
How the country's resources were squandered away,
He kept reading some papers he'd brought in his
pocket.

Some thought them dispatches from Spain, or the

Turk,

Others swore they brought word we had lost the Mauritius;

But it turned out 'twas only Miss Fudge's new work, Which his Lordship devour'd with such zeal ex

peditious.

Messrs. Simkins and Co. to avoid all delay
Having sent it in sheets, that his Lordship might say,
He had distanced the whole reading world, by a day!

LETTER VIII.

FROM BOB FUDGE, ESQ., TO THE REV. MORTIMER O'MULLIGAN.

Tuesday Evening.

I much regret, dear Reverend Sir,

I could not come to *** to meet you;
But this curst gout won't let me stir,-
Ev'n now I but by proxy greet you;
As this vile scrawl, whate'er its sense is,
Owes all to an amanuensis.

Most other scourges of disease
Reduce men to extremities, -
But gout won't leave one even these.

From all my sister writes, I see
That you and I will quite agree.