Thumping Robin, amazed, oped his mouth and his eyes,
And the latter could hardly believe;

But Bill gave him short time to shake off his surprise,
For he said, "Now, big Rob, you'll be off if you're wise,
And I'll grant you for once a reprieve."

But big Bob was a huge o'ergrown fellow, who ne'er
In those parts found his equal before;
So he pluck'd up his courage, and said, "Never fear,
But I'll make you repent that you ever came here,
And take care you don't come any more.

"There, take that!" and he aim'd a fierce blow at Bill's head, Just as though he would knock down an ox; But Bill parried it lightly, and laughingly said, "What! d'ye call that a blow? Well, take that tap instead! Ha, ha, ha! so you're in the wrong box ?"

Then again the queer stick flew about, left and right,
With such swiftness it scarce could be seen,
And in very few seconds so finish'd the fight,
That black, blue, and breathless, in shocking bad plight,
Robin join'd his fallen friends on the green.

His arms flapping like wings, Bill then cried, "Och, aboo!"
And he crow'd like a cock o'er his foes;
"There, they're settled! and now I have nothing to do,
But in safety hereafter keep teasing dear Sue,

Till I make her say 'Yes. So, here goes!"

Now, the maiden had seen the queer combats amazed,
But all pass'd so exceedingly quick,

That she scarce had concluded Beau Billy was crazed,
Ere he enter'd her door, neither bruised, hurt, nor grazed,
Gaily whistling and twirling his stick.

What he said, and he did, and she said in reply,
Would detain us too long to relate;
He'd her all to himself, and no one will deny,
That 'tis pleasanter courting with no rivals by,
To embarrass the loving debate.

When they parted, 'twas late, but they met again soon,
Billy beau'd her wherever she went;
On the green they were seen almost each afternoon,
Then took long loving walks by the light of the moon,
Till by such means he gain'd her consent.

Then three times in the church both their names were announced,

And at length came the bright, happy day,

When his bride at the altar, deep blushing and flounced,
Billy faced, and observed she unfairly pronounced
The last words of " to love and obey."

Billy chuckled, and thought " If you won't, I know what,"

But his secret he cunningly hid;

And, apparently perfectly pleased with his lot,
Walk'd off, laughing, with Sue to their own little cot,

With the friends who to dinner were bid.

That day merrily pass'd, and some others beside,
Till the honeymoon drew to its wane;

When there came a strange change o'er the ways of the bride,
Who decided 'twere folly much longer to hide

Her intent in the cottage to reign.

So she order'd about her, and, shocking to tell,
At last call'd her husband a fool;
Which, though perfectly true, we all know very well
One don't like to be told. So the uproar to quell,
Bill resolved to establish his rule;

And accordingly brought the queer stick to his aid,
With intention most gently to smite,
Which when Susan beheld she began to upbraid:
"Strike a woman? you coward!" she cried; "Who's afraid ?
Get along with you out of my sight!"

But Bill boldly stood firm, and self-conscious of power,
Thought "I've only to give her a pat,

And henceforth at my glance, like a spaniel, she'll cower,
And obey me in all I command from this hour."
So he smote, saying, " Vixen! take that."

Though he used little strength, yet the blow seem'd to him,
When compared with his practice before,
Scarcely lighter than those that fell'd Rob, Hal, and Tim;
Yet it barely sufficed to indent the gay brim
Of the straw-plaited bonnet she wore.

In amazement he stared, and had just raised the stick,
To essay what the next tap would do,
When his wife, springing forward, infuriate and quick,
Snatch'd it out of his hand; then with blows smart and thick
She belabour'd her spouse black and blue.

That the stick held its magical powers was now plain;
Fast as hail falls it patter'd "whack, whack!"
Billy roar'd out for quarter and mercy in vain,
Still, " I'll teach you a woman to strike!" was her strain,
As he lay on the floor on his back.

When she ceased from fatigue Billy crawl'd off to bed,
Which he long kept in terrible plight;
By the doctor drugg'd, plaster'd, anointed, and bled,
And by Susan with gruel and mutton broth fed,

Though she said that she'd served him quite right.

At length Time, the prime healer, completed his cure,
And he went for a stroll all alone,
Pondering dismally o'er what he'd still to endure,
And was groaning, " She'll kill me some day, I'm quite sure,'
When he found himself near the grey stone.

Then again with odd cackling the queer old man's voice
Smote his ear, shouting " Billy the Beau!
What! there moping again? when thou ought'st to rejoice
Thou hast won such a prize as the maid of thy choice;
But for me she might yet have said no."

"

"A good job if she had," Billy sulkily growl'd.
The old man cried, "What's that that I hear?

Thou hast cudgell'd thy rivals, I heard how they howl'd,
And got married. What would'st thou?" and fiercely he scowl'd,
In a way that made Bill quake for fear.

" Please your worship," he stammer'd, " I don't mean no harm;"
And he told what he'd suffered and done;
"Luckless Bill!" said the man, "my gift lost not its charm,
And thy wife will henceforth rule your cottage and farm
In the very same style she's begun.

"When I told thee no man could that queer stick withstand,
Of thy beating thy wife I thought not;
But since now you're united by wedlock's strong band,
Thou hast stupidly let the staff out of thine hand-
Thou deservest the whole thou hast got.

"Man should never strike woman in conjugal strife,
Even though she mayn't always obey;
And indeed all agree, who've observed human life,
'Tis a queer stick indeed that can manage a wife,
When determined to have her own way."

Now all ye beaus who courting go, of Billy's fate beware,
Nor strive, by seeming what you're not, your sweethearts to ensnare ;
For scarcely man is he who can unfairly treat the fair.

And ye, fair maids of Britain's isle, take heed of dashing beaux,
Who sport queer sticks, and conjuring tricks, and swagger, lie, and glose;
They rarely are the kind of men they'd have you to suppose.

Choose well your mates, and when you wed, deem not the rite a joke,
Pronounce each syllable distinct, nor seek for equivoque;
But let your words and thoughts agree, like honest upright folk.

And when the marriage knot is wreathed, and two become but one,
Let neither give the other cause to wish that knot undone;
For two misjoin'd had better be a cloister'd monk and nun.

TEN THOUSAND A-YEAR!

PART II.

Fortuna sævo læta negotio, el
Ludum insolentem ludere pertinax,
Transmutat incertos honores,
Nunc mihi, nunc alii benigna.
Laudo manentem: si celeres quatit
Pennas, resigno quæ dedit, et incâ
Virtute me involvo, probanque
Pauperiem sine dote quæro.

HOR. CARM. Lib. iii. 49.

"Very well, sir-but-before my breakfast, sir?"

"Did I say a word about breakfast, sir? You heard my orders, sir; you can attend to them or not, Mr Titmouse, as you please!"

CLOSET COURT had never looked so odious to Titmouse as it did when, harrassed and depressed as I have described him, he approached it about one o'clock, A.M. He flung himself on his bed for a moment directly he had shut his door, intending presently to rise and undress; but sleep having got him prostrate, secured her victory. She waved her black wand over him, and he woke not till eight o'clock in the morning. A second long-drawn sigh was preparing to follow its pre-ving had nothing to eat since the pre

decessor, when he heard it strike eight, and sprung off the bed in a fright; for he ought to have been at the shop an hour ago. Dashing a little water into his face, and scarce staying to wipe it off, he ran down stairs, through the court, and along the street, never stopping till he had found his way into-almost the very arms of the dreaded Mr Tag-rag; who, rarely making his appearance till about halfpast nine, had, as the deuce would have it, happened to come down an hour and a half earlier than usual, on the only morning out of several hundreds on which Titmouse had been more than ten minutes beyond

his time.

"Yours ve-ry respectfully, Mr Titmouse-Thomas Tag-rag!" exclaimed that personage with mock solemnity, bowing formally to his astounded and breathless shopman.

"I-I-beg your pardon, sir; but I wasn't very well, and overslept myself," stammered Titmouse.

"Ne-vermind, Mr Titmouse, ne-ver mind it don't much signify," interrupted Mr Tag-rag, bitterly; "you've just got an hour and a half to take this piece of silk, with my compliments, to Messrs Shuttle and Weaver, in Dirt Street, Spitalfields, and ask them if they ar'n't ashamed to send it to a WestEnd house like mine, and bring back a better piece instead of it!"

Off trotted Titmouse instanter, without his breakfast; and so Tag-rag gained one object he had had in view. Titmouse found this rather trying: a five-mile walk before him, with no inconsiderable load under his arm, hav

ceding evening, when he had partaken of a delicate repast of thick slices of bread, smeared slightly over with salt butter, and moistened with a most astringent decoction of tea-leaves sweetened with brown sugar, and discoloured with sky-blue milk. He had not even a farthing about him wherewith to buy a penny roll! As he went disconsolately along, so many doubts and fears buzzed impetuously about him, that they completely darkened his little soul, and bewildered his small understanding. Ten Thousand a-Year!it was never meant for the like of him. He soon worked himself into a conviction that the whole thing was infinitely too good to be true; the affair was desperate; it had been all moonshine; for some cunning purpose or another, Messrs Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, had been-ah, here he was within a few yards of their residence, the scene of last night's tragic transactions! As he passed Saffron Hill, he paused, looked up towards the blessed abode

"Where centred all his hopes and fears," uttered a profoundsigh, and passed slowly on towards Smithfield. The words "Quirk, Gammon, and Snap," seemed to be written over every shop-window which he passed their images filled his mind's eye. What could they be at? They had been all very polite and friendly and of their own