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 "The Ox is mad! Ho! Dick, Bob, Mat!" What means this coward fuss? "Ho! stretch this rope across the plat— 'Twill trip him up—or if not that, Why, damme! we must lay him flat— See, here's my blunderbuss.

"A lying dog! just now he said The Ox was only glad— Let's break his presbyterian head!" "Hush!" quoth the sage, "you've been misled; No quarrels now—let's all make head— ."

As thus I sat, in careless chat, With the morning's wet newspaper, In eager haste, without his hat, As blind and blundering as a bat, In came that fierce Aristocrat, Our pursy Woollen-draper. Rh