A TOUCH OF THE REVENUE'S TAXES, &c. How admirably are Englishmen To give their government the sway: That is, the Trinity of power, King, Lords, and Commons. They devour, And nineteen-twentieths tythe for state. Money for Auctions must be paid, We should, by quenching thirst, be kill'd. Should pale decline hope's beauty waste; Whether for fruits, lips, lights, or eyes. Hides, which for hiding, ne'er were meant, Skins, howe'er badly skins are rent. Hops which are dancing from the Malt, Paid for, refused, and sometimes riven. Roasted Goods, Paper, Pepper, Tea, Spirits, Stone-bottles, Starch, and Sweets, Tobacco, for the pipe, or quid, In which narcotic juice is hid, Which yields the student and the tar, Tranquillity in peace and war. Wire to ensnare birds, men, and beasts; Wine never tasted but at feasts; And Vinegar for wine prepared, Fit only to be sold and shared Between those creatures that define A POCKET WIG. THERE was brought to Bow-street office one Robert Wilkinson, the son of an attorney's clerk & "A youth condemn'd his father's soul to cross, Who picks a pocket when he should engross,” -charged with taking unto himself property to which he had no right or title-namely, a Barrister's wig. It appeared by the evidence, that this hopeful youth was prowling about Temple-bar in the dead of the night, seeking something for his "pickers and stealers" to do. Whilst he was thus prowling, he was aware of a solitary gentleman approaching the bar from the east; and, hiding himself in the shade of the arch, he determined to try his luck upon him. The gentleman so approaching was D., Esq. of Pump-court, in the Temple, and he came soberly on, wrapped (probably) in forensic meditations, little thinking danger was so near him. As he passed through the archway, Bob Wilkinson popped from his hiding-place, crept softly after him on tip-toe, sliding his hand smoothly into his right-hand coat pocket, and drew forth-a wig! Like Filch in the Opera-he dipped for a fogle and prigg'd a wig! It was not a professional wig, but a scratch a la Titus; one that any closely-cropped gentleman might carry in his pocket to clap on occasionally when sitting in a theatre, or any other place where currents of cold air prevail. Small as it was, however, the Barrister felt it depart-he put his hand to his pocket and found it wig-less; and instantly turning round he saw Bob Wilkinson with the wig in his hand-standing, evi dently, wig-struck; for had the prize been a Bandana, or a pocket-book, or any ordinary pocket-property, Bob would have bolted instanter. Well, the Barrister seized him, Bob threw down the wig; the Barrister picked it up again, aud, replacing it in his pocket, very properly gave unlucky Bob in charge to the watch. Robert had nothing to say in his defence, and he was fully committed for trial. COFFEE-HOUSES. COFFEE-HOUSES appear to be of as late an origin as the reign of Charles II. Aubrey, in a letter to Anthony Wood, the Antiquary, dated 1680, speaks of "the moderne advantage of coffee-houses in this great citie (London) before which men knew not how to be acquainted, but with their owne relations or societies." And in his memoir of Sir Henry Blount, he adds, "when coffee first came in, he (Sir Henry) was a great upholder of it, and hath ever since been a constant frequenter of coffee-houses, especially Mr. Farre's, at the Rainbowe, by the Inner Temple Gate, and lately John's Coffee-house in Fuller's Rents." The first coffee-house in London, was in St. Michael's Alley, Cornhill, opposite to the Church, which was set up by one Bowman, (coachman to Mr. Hodges, a Turkey merchant, who put him upon it) in or about the year 1652. It was about four years before any other was set up, and that was by the above-mentioned Farre. Jonathan Paynter, opposite to St. Michael's Church, was the first apprentice to the trade, viz. to Bowman. MEM. The Bagnio, in Newgate-street, was built and first opened in 1679. It was built by some Turkish Merchants.—Aubrey M.S. at Oxford, WHAT, what is Marriage? Harris, Priscian, Assist me with a definition. "Oh!" cries a charming silly fool, Emerging from her boarding school, From raptures and from stolen glances, Vows-quarrels-moonshine-babes-but hush! |