294 poetry, Oct. 24, 



THE SECRET BLABBED. 

 For the Bee, 



Sylvius, engag'd one day at dice, 

 Hist ! hist ! come hither John, he cries } 

 Then whispers close, — Run to Lucinda, 

 Make has-te,be quick, you know the window- 

 Tel! her I cannot come to day, 

 1 'm very much engaged at play 5 

 But when you come to me again, 

 Be sure you say it was a m<in. , 



Yes, Sir, sa)S John, away he flies. 

 Returns to Sylvius in a trice. 

 What says the gentleman ? where is he ? 

 Why Sir, he says he's wond'rods busy. 

 What was he doing when you came ? 

 Why truly, Sir, 1 dare npt name. 

 Tell', me or else, — Oh, Sir,rU do ir, 

 — A putting op his petticoat. 



EPIGRAM. 

 For the Bee. 



A Cn « N I s K vicar while he preach'd, 



Of patient Job did speak ^ 

 When he came home found to his grie(i 



His cask had sprung a leak. 



Enrag'd, — his wife did thus advise. 



Job for a pattern chuse ; 

 But he reply'd, Job ne'er had such 

 A tub of ale to lose. 



EIIGRAM. 

 Ftr the Bee. 



As epigram by school boy writ, 



The pedant old surveys j 

 And as his wisdom thought most fit. 



His stick acrofs him lays. 



The student felt his noddle bleed. 

 And niumbliig; answer'd thusj 

 My epigram is bad indeed, 

 But your aero— stick's worse. 



