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At which the poor sailors who stand on the beach
Are affected still more than by Robinson's speech;
The heavens, it would seem, more propitiously smile
On Robinson, now he has quitted his isle:

But yet he is taken a little a-back,
When he thinks that a black,

The moment he sets

His foot in Great Britain, his liberty gets; Which induces him quickly to alter his track,

And steer for some port,

Of West-Indian resort, When, having sold Friday, once more he sets sail And arrives at Spithead with a prosperous gale, Just twenty-five years and one month from the day That he set sail from Hull, to his parents' dismay.

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By this tender appeal to their feelings and fears.

We may easily guess

What deep thanks they express ;
We may easily feel that they could n't do less-

At this noblest of offers;—

Not merely his coffers,
His silver and gold, but the whole of his land-

His fixtures-royalties-rights of command !
In one feeling, of course, they must all be unanimous,
That there never was anything half so magnanimous ;
And they fell on their knees, and 't is really distressing,
To see how they weep as he gives them his blessing!

Indeed, 't would be out of all question to tell
How deeply they feel at this painful farewell.
Now the Captain and Robinson get a-board ship
With Friday, who with them departs on their trip;
And when they have got off too far from the shore
For the sailors to hear their good-byes any more,
They still by significant gestures express

Once more settled down, Mr. Robinson spends
The rest of his days in the midst of his friends ;

Though at first he finds Hull

Rather stupid and dull, For his father is dead, to his very great grief, And his mother supported on out-door relief;— His feelings are shocked at the poor woman's pittance, And into the workhouse he gets her admittance ; Where, lest she should still not have comforts enough, He allows her a shilling a quarter for snuff.

He then prints his travels,

Which, spite of the cavils . Of critics, must always be relished by youth And age, for their vigour, their freshness, and truth.

He lives at his ease,

On the profits of these,
His vote for the town, and whatever small trifle
He chanced from the sailors' strong-boxes to rifle;

Not forgetting the sum

He received for his chum
The excellent Friday. And thus free from strife,

Without children or wife,
He passes serenely the eve of a life,
Which with so much adventure and peril was rife.

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II.

IV

"Twere rain to tell, my Isabel,

My hopes, and doubts, and fears ; I can't reveal the half I feel

For three unmarried dears!
So cousin Fred you must cut dead,

And seek not to enthral ;
Sir John, to-night, I'm sure will bite,

Pray hook him at our ball!

crcs.

III.

My dear, divine, sweet Caroline

A lady bright must be ; 'Twould be absurd to lose a lord,

Because he's sixty-three! Who rolls in gold is ne'er thought old,

For years before it fall ! There's not a doubt but he'll speak out,

Accept him at our ball!

My darling pet, dear Margaret,

Will please mamma, I know; I'm very sure a man that's poor

Will never be her beau ! Sweet loves, I find you know my mind,

I urge it on you all; You've but to lay your plans, and play

“ A game at TRAP and BALL!"

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A STATE OF SUSPENSION.

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TROTTING HIM OUT.

CHANGING HORSES.

HAVE YOU SEEN

SE?"

bands and good fathers; pay your rents, rates, and taxes: you have an undoubted right to each, every, and either; but do not allow your rash ambition to exalt itself to the title of Dandy ; for your chassure irrevocably excludes you from the fashionable world.

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