Come, come, I say, old fellow, stop your chant; I can not write a sentence-no one can't! So just pack up your trumps, Says he,-"I SHAN'T !" Down went the sash As if devoted to "eternal smash," (Another illustration Of acted imprecation,) While close at hand, uncomfortably near, The thing was hard to stand! The music master could not stand it- Made up directly to the tattered man, "Com-com-I say! You go away! Into two parts my head you split- You have no business in a place so still! 66 "No-no-you scream and bawl! You must come not at all! You have no rights, by rights, to beg- You ought to work-You have not some complaint, You are not cripple in your back or bones Your voice is strong enough to break some stones”— Says he," IT AINT!" 66 I say you ought to labor! You in a young case, You have not sixty years upon your face, No coach, no horses, no postillion, LESSON CXXXI. DEATH IN THE KITCHEN. A Parody is a composition in which the words or sentiments of an author are imitated, but in such a manner as to turn them into burlesque. The following Parody is also full of Puns, which have been previously explained, and some of which are indicated by italic type. Corporal Trim is a character in Sterne's Tristram Shandy, a sort of sentimental novel, containing the extract of which the following is a Parody. The author of the following witty lines is THOMAS HOOD. Trim, thou art right!-T is sure that I, The stoutest lad and wench The dreary grave!-O when I think My inward spirit groans! My eyes are filled with dismal dreams Yes, jovial butler, thou must fail, Ay, hapless scullion! 'tis thy case; The fast decaying frame of man Time wears away with-sand! Thou need'st not, mistress cook! be told, The meat to-morrow will be cold That now is fresh and hot! E'en thus our flesh will, by and by, Be cold as stone !—Cook, thou must die! "There's death within the pot." Susannah, too, my lady's maid, The " glass of fashion" thou wilt hold No more, but grovel in the mould, That's not the "mould of form!" Yes, Jonathan, that drives the coach, He too well feels the fiend's approach— The grave will pluck him down : He must in dust and ashes lie, How frail is our uncertain breath! Nay, see the household dog-e'en that Cook, butler, Susan, Jonathan, All, all shall have another sort Of service after this-in short The one the parson reads! LESSON CXXXII. THE CAUSE OF THUNDER.-EDITOR. Men often overrate their importance in the universe, and why should not Frogs, who are a "feeble folk," do the same. The following is a free imitation of a Fable by DORAT. Fefore the pupil finds fault with the king's arithmetic, he must be sure that frogs reckon as much like men as the Fable seems to make them speak and act. Hoarse thunders in the upper sphere And all heaven's windows, opened wide, And what on earth could ever stir Once said, that when great Jove gets mad, |