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COMIC PIECES.

THE MISER'S WILL.*

Old SCRAPE-ALL who had long been ailing,
Was at a trembling debtor railing;
Threat'ning, if he a mite should fail,
To whelm him in a neighbouring jail;
When Truth, his neighbour, pass'd that way,
The Debtor saw and slipp'd away.

Scrape-all then, thus, with sigh profound,
And wheezing cough, a church-yard sound!
Address'd, with lifted hand, his friend :—
"I think my grief will never end!
The hog that wallows in his sty,
Has thrice more happiness than I!
My care is now, whilst others sleep,
Not how to gain, but how to KEEP.'
Said Truth" As usual, still I see,
Brimful of grief and misery!-
Riches the things which others bless,
To you bring nought but wretchedness!
But tho' your purse is deep and strong,
Good sir, you cannot hold it long ;
Your years on years have so increas'd,
You must be fourscore now at least.”
"Speak louder, friend, my ears do fail,
I'm grown as deaf as a door nail."
"I say your years have so increased,
You must be FOURSCORE years at LEAST."

* The narrative part of this piece should be delivered in the natural voice of the speaker, but with an earnestness of manuer. The tone and manner of Truth should be particularly grave and impressive, and form a contrast with the tremulous, piping voice of Scrape-all.

"Hold, hold!" he cried, "you're FAR away! I am but seventy-nine this day,

And think, whatever others fear,

I still may reach my hundredth year!"

Said Truth, "Now make me your confessor !
Pray who do you keep your riches for?"—
"Who for !" cried Scrape-all,
"for MYSELF!

And when at length I die-FIVE score,
Or thereabouts,-say ten years more,
My wealth, I do design, shall be

Placed in my COFFIN close by me."

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Nay," answer'd Truth, "when you are dead, Authority you'll find is fled;

Some-one, no doubt, will still contrive
To keep your slumbering gold alive.-
Make, make your will; Howe'er it grieve,
You must your ALL to some one leave!"
"What! make my will! my ALL bestow
On some one else? No! neighbour, no!
I'll be, whilst these my hands can hold,
The only keeper of my gold;

From night to morn, from morn to night,
I'll keep it close and hold it tight!"
"You rightly speak, you are no more
Than keeper to your golden store,
But when you die, as die you must,
To whom will you bequeath your trust?_"
"TO NO ONE!" Scrape-all stern replied;
"The WHOLE, I'll in my coffin hide!
I who have scraped for fifty years,
With ceaseless toil and hourly fears,
Shall I give ALL away, at LAST?
No! neighbour, No! I'll hold it fast!"
"Strive how you will, your
wealth to save,
You cannot hold it in the grave!
Although, old man! it rend your heart,
Your God and you at length must part!"

Said Scrape-all, sorrowful and slow,

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Well, then! come thirty years or so,

you now

And I will think on this affair,
And if needs be appoint my heir."
Cried Truth, "No moment lose!
Your head with age and palsy bow!
I guess when Jack, your wealth has got,
He soon will spend it all! a Sot!
And ere you've closed your eyes a year,
Behind a prison grate appear!"

"My spendthrift nephew, here, I swear!
Shall never be rich Scrape-all's heir!"
"Then make your Will! or 'twill be so !
He'll have it all, when you are low!"
"What! make my will just in my prime,
'Twould be to die before my time."
"Nay," Truth replied, " be well content!
You will not die, nor Jack lament,
The sooner for this instrument.
And I would more in candour say-
Do good, friend Scrape-all, while you may!
Erect, and you will gain renown

A school within your native town;
Then build a hospital, that fame,

When you are dead, may bless your name,-
For you 'twill be a small bequest
Your nephew then may spend the rest."

Cried Scrape-all," NEVER, whilst I live,
Will I a mite to any give!

No, no! good neighbour, to the last!
With bolt and bar I'll hold it fast!-
And as I cannot give, when dead,
The law shall give it in my stead!
But as for Jack, again I swear,
The rogue shall NEVER be my heir!"-
One year is past!-let thirst of gold
Its object and its end behold!

Whilst none their different lots bewail

SCRAPE-ALL is DEAD! and JACK's in JAIL!!

THE WALLET.*

From the French of Fontaine.

Jove once assembling all his creatures,
Proclaim'd, whoe'er disliked his lot,
As far as outward form and features,
Might have them mended on the spot.
Among the rest he saw the Ape-
Thought IIIм fit subject for beginning:
But Jacko faultless found his shape,
And saw the graces in his grinning.
Said Jack, “you might have pitch'd a worse on,
Sire, in the crowd that's here attending!
There's brother Bruin's half-licked person
May need, I think, some little mending."

The Bear not wishing to complain,
Said, "That pert jackanapes must doat,
How many beasts desire in vain,
The comforts of this shaggy coat.

"Yon Elephant, our height o'ertopping,
In clumsy bulk, perhaps I'm stronger-
But sure his EARS require some cropping-
Should not his TAIL be somewhat longer?"
The Elephant these changes scouted,—
The same vain notions e'en prevail
In his wise head; he rather doubted
If not too large, was FAT DAME Whale.
Contented was my lady Whale

While Mistress Ant believed Miss Mite
Was made on much too small a scale,

She thought her own dimensions right.

* In this piece there is but little change of tone required. Liveli. ness of manner, distinctness of utterance, a strict attention to the emphasis, and a suspension of the voice before the supposed speech of the animals, claim the chief attention of the speaker.

Not one there was in all the crowd
Wish'd to be larger, smaller, straighter:
The ugliest monster there was proud

Of the fair gifts bestow'd by nature.
Above the rest conspicuous MAN
Appear'd, than other creatures vainer.
Great Jove contriv'd a simple plan,

To make this obvious truth the plainer.
At his command, men wallets bore:
For holding faults was made the sack;
One end, as usual, hung before,

The other close behind his back.

Each to his own dear failings blind,
To find another's error labours;
Packs up his own faults snug behind,

And trains the front pouch with his neighbour's.

THE HORSE AND THE WOLF."

From the French of Fontaine.

When nature, releas'd from the cold icy trammels
Which winter had form'd, all her lustre renews,
When the gold of the cowslip each meadow enamels,
And the amethyst blends with soft emerald hues.
At this sprightly season of love and of joy,

A horse from his stable was sent by his master,
In freedom these holiday hours to employ,

And graze at his ease in a rich verdant pasture.
A wolf who was prowling in search of adventures,
The glossy, plump animal joyfully spies,
With caution the paddock's enclosure he enters,
In hopes of possessing so tempting a prize.

* The narrative part of this piece should be spoken in an easy and lively manner. The wolf is at first erulting, his tone then changes to that of caution, and finally he becomes insinuating and artful, while the horse is grave.