My master has sent for the doctor, who, 'twixt you and I and the post, is no better than an old file !' I was in the workshop last night, where-" 66 Where, no doubt, youtiously interrupted the Axe. saw a great deal,” face The Saw showed his teeth in a sort of grin betwixt melancholy and mirth, and resumed, 66 Why, I may say so with some truth; and I consider it no more than a duty I owe Mr. Carpenter to do as much as I can, in spite of my teeth, for he is really liberal-in point of board." "And, do you never grow rusty ?" asked the Axe. "Not with over work," replied the Saw; "and, indeed, I have always found that constant employment best preserves our polish; which, after all, is only artificial." "You are quite a philosopher." "Not exactly so; for I sometimes do grow exceedingly hot, and lose my temper." "And what says your master?" 66 Why, he generously desists awhile, and I soon grow cool again, and then I cut away like a razor through a piece of mottled soap!" "How "You are a happy fellow," said the Axe. differently am I situated! My master is a 'chopping boy,' with a thick block, which is tantamount to saying he is a fat fool. He is very sharp with me sometimes; and when he finds I am inclined to be blunt, he grinds me most cruelly." "Alas!" cried the Saw; "it's the way of the world, my friend; for I have invariably remarked, that the rich always grind the poor for the sake of the "Bravo!" exclaimed the Axe. "You see I've not lived in the world all this time without getting a notch or two," said the Saw. "Nor I either," replied the Axe; "although, in obtaining the said notches, I have not only lost my courage, but a portion of my metal too!" 66 Well, I never saw!" exclaimed his friend; "how you talk! I am sure your teeth do not give you any trouble, at any rate." "I ax your pardon, old boy," remonstrated the Axe; for, although I do not complain of my teeth exactly, my chops give me a pretty considerable deal of trouble, I can tell you.' The Saw grinned an approval of the Axe's wit. "Peace! exclaimed the Axe. "Here comes Mr. Carpenter; so don't show your teeth, till you can bite,'-I believe that is the maxim of a relation of yours?" "Not a relation," said the other; " though they are the words of a wise old saw ! All must confess There's none can dress So well as Molly; (bless her!) None can insinu -ate you are a kitchen DRESSER ! With ruddy streaks Excel in beauty far the chops Of mutton-fat in butchers' shops ! Your very waist Is not extravagance in you. Your pies and patties too! Yes, cruel! Your paste is worth a real jewel! Is sometimes too-a little tart, And you a tartar. Relent, dear Molly, or you'll make Your love a martyr, And bring him to the stake! Then love me, dearest Doll, and I Will make you mine, and mother of our fry! THE RAT'S LAMENTATION. O cruel trap! O sad mishap! O! what a tale of woe! 'Twas love of cheese deluded her, And all my hopes laid low. But though a bait has caught my spouse, Against the cruel bars I rail, So kind she was, I never felt And then her virtue―lack-a-day! O! may her present case n'er fall Fast flies the night, like one in flight Before a conqu❜ring foe; And morning breaks, and breaks my heart The light brings heavy woe. The cruel cook, who set the trap, Will soon be up and down; And when she sees my love, will seize Her victim with a frown, And plunge her in a pail, perhaps ; Farewell! dear partner of my toils, I never thought my wife would be DICK AND TOM. DICK. O Thomas, dear Thomas, I think TOM. O no!-you're mistaken, d'ye see, DICK. Your poor wife was frighten'd to death, And vented her sighs with her breath. TOM. Poor soul!-she must still wait a bit Before I get out of this fit; And a precious strong fit it is too ; And yet I have safely "got through." |