130 NOTES OF A TOWN TRAVELLER. 



whisper, as I was stepping into my chaise, ' which the men left, with 

 their compliments, for you, sir, as a small recompense for last night's 

 business. They warrant it good. I think it will just go under the seat 

 of your chaise,— and if you should, sir, at any time want a gallon or so 

 for a friend or two, I hope you will not forget " The Hole in the Wall." ' 



" I thanked him— told him such a remuneration was quite unnecessary 

 — promised the strictest secresy, — and drove off. 



" Gentlemen, my yarn's spun, as the old sailor says ; — many years 

 have passed since then, — to me many happy years. The old man 

 shortly after died, leaving Gregory and Bessy, who was his cousin, the 

 whole of his property between them. Gregory was wise enough to 

 know when he had enough, and retired, a respectable man, in the 

 County of Kent. As for Bessy" — 



" Ah ! what became of Bessy ?" ejaculated the company at once. 



" She soon got married," was the reply. 



" Married ! — to whom, to whom ?" again exclaimed the gentlemen. 



The speaker cast his eyes round the room, — took up his pipe, — and 

 then resuming his seat, — modestly replied, " To myself; gentlemen!" 



" Huzza ! Bravo ! Bravo ! — To the health of Bessy ! Hip ! Hip ! 

 Hurra !" 



POLAND RESTORED. 



A SONNET. 



{^Inscribed to Jacob Jones, Esq., Barrister at Law, author of " Poland is 

 not yet Lost." By a Member of the Commons House of Parliament. '\ 



Not, Bard sublime, alone ! — a prophet true ! 

 Thou shalt, anon — in euphonistic verse, 

 The joys restored of Poland's sons rehearse. 



And wreaths of triumph o'er their path bestrew ! 



What ! though auspicious gleams be dim and few. 

 Amid the blackness of appalling night, — 

 Though northern wintry storms their regions blight,— 



And, in a death-like trance, their forms we view, — 



Freedom and glory shall the silence break ; 

 A patriot zeal lead on reviving day ; 

 A genial Spring their winter chase away. 

 And to heroic deed? the brave shall wake ! 



Poland's dire fate invokes a glowing song, — 



Strike, strike aloud the lyre ! the thrilling tale prolong ! 



