INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A RAT. 547 



safely landed, and set down at Mr. II 's coffee-house, where having 



solaced myself with a " hearty meal," he pulled a newspaper out of his 

 pocket, which proved to be the " Leeds Mercury," and was silently 

 drawing deep quaffs of knowledge and useful information from its pages, 

 when one or two others, who had gone there with the same intention as 

 himself, requested that, " pro bono publico," he would read aloud ; when, 

 after one or two preparatory hems, he proceeded to do so, choosing for his 

 subject the Revd. I. Winterbotham's Journey from Haworth to Harrow-- 

 gate. I pricked up my ears immediately, and as he proceeded, my at- 

 tention became intense, and the applause which followed the detail of 

 each amusing incident, filled me with the ambition of obtaining it for 

 myself, and " my works," by a simple recital of my travels and adven-^ 

 tures. The following afternoon proving very rainy, I sat down and 

 penned what I now, Mr. Editor, send you, in accordance with my pre^ 

 viously stated ambitious design, and, labouring pretty hard (as to-morrow, 

 I hear, a vessel is going out for Rotterdam, by which I intend taking my 

 passage,) I have sent you a full and true account of my travels, which, if 

 they succeed in amusing you, or through you, your readers, one half as 

 much as they have done me in the detail, I shall be amply repaid. I 

 nay at another time, if your readers think my travels worth perusing, 

 urnish you with another sketch of my adventures abroad. Adieu, 

 VEr. Editor, and may the Monthly be universally read, is the prayer of 

 .in ill-used and vilified animal, A POOR RAT, 



DEAR GIRL, THOSE TEARS. 



BY THE AUTHOR OF " THE GARLAND," &C. 



DEAR girl, those tears of anguish dry, 



I would not idly give thee pain ; 



Say only thou art true, and I 



Will take thee to these arms again. 



I cannot love, as erst, and see 



Those orbs of blue suffused with tears ; 



Canst thou have wrong'd thyself and me. 



The memory wrong'd of other years ? 



They tell me some one, distant now, 



Has won thy heart thy red lips press'd ; 



They hint that he has kiss'd thy brow, 



And, loving, with thy love been bless'd, 



Still, if thou wilt but smile and say, 



As erst, so wilt thou love again, 



Once more I'll own the magic swa 



Of Beauty and her silken chain. jj 



3X2 



