THE AUTHOR'S FAREWELL. 203 



In CONCLUSION, we anticipate certain cold-blooded objections, in that we have 

 treated too harshly, a certain class of delinquents, and that we have carried our 

 principles of justice due to beasts, in the vulgar phrase, to extremes ; the which 

 being interpreted is, there are many good people who cannot possibly make shift, 

 or render life tolerable, without the enjoyment of a moderate quantum of wrong- 

 and cruelty. We shall be further blamed, no doubt, for our rough and unmodish 

 style of calling men and things by their proper names : but really, our humble 

 wits are of the ancient cut, nor will our small portion of sagacity enable us to discover 

 those wonderful benefits, in extreme cases, now usually attributed to that excess 

 of lenient plaistering and onction, which has become the* universal mode. We have 

 neither the skill nor the talent to sooth and charm away obdurate profligacy. 



Our metrical finale, for which we stand obliged to the ingenious Mr. Upton, we 

 strongly recommend to the serious consideration of all those juvenile Sportsmen, 

 who like the hero of the piece, may have inherited a handsome, but small fortune. 

 We can assure them, that there is the full force of reality in the fiction of the poet ; 

 and that we have at this moment, in memory, various such examples, which have 

 actually occurred in the course of our sporting pilgrimage. And now after 

 having been occasionally, full often painfully, engaged on these subjects, during 

 more than half the usual term of life, we bid our readers heartily farewell, with 

 the humble offering of our best respects, and warmest wishes for their HEALTH, 



WEALTH, AND MORAL IMPROVEMENT. 



TEN THOUSAND POUNDS. 



BY MR. UPTON 



My father left ten thousand pounds, 



And will'd it all to me; 

 My friends, like sunflowers, flock'd around, 



As kind as kind could be. 



This sent a buck, and that a hare, 



And some the Lord knows what ; 



In short, I thought I could declare, 

 No man such friends had got. 



They ate my meat they drank my wine; 



In truth so kind were they, 

 That be the weather wet or fine, 



They'd dine with me next day. 



