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 And well adapted to the task was Bell,

Whose iron visage measur'd half an ell:

With huge proboscis, and eye-brows of soot

Arm'd at the jowl just like a boar,

And when he gave an angry roar,

The little schoolboys stood like fishes mute.

Poor Jonas, tho' a patient man as Job,

(Yet still, like Job, was sometimes heard to growl

Was by a scholar's adamantine nod,

Beyond all patience gravell'd to the soul,

I question whether Jonas in the Fish

Did ever diet on a bitterer dish.

Twas thus—a lady who supported Bell,

Came unexpectedly to hear them spell;

The pupil fixed on by this pedagogue,

Her son, a little round fac'd' ruddy rogue

Who thus letters on the table laid—

M. I. L. K,—and paused—"Well, sir, what that?"

"I cannot tell," the boy all trembling said.—

"Not tell," you little blind and stupid brat'

"Not tell," roar'd Jonas, in a violent rage,

And quick prepared an angry war to wage.

"Tell me this instant, or I'll flay thy hide—

"Come, Sir.

"Dost thou this birchen weapon see?

"What puts thy mother in her tea?

With lifted eyes the quaking rogue reply'd,

"RUM, Sir$...$"

A warrior so bold, and virgin so bright,

Conven'd as they sat on the green;