superstition would pour into his cup.

_(To be continued.)_

* * * * *



SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.


* * * * *


LONDON LYRICS.--THE IMAGE BOY.


Whoe'er has trudged, on frequent feet,
From Charing Cross to Ludgate-street,
That haunt of noise and wrangle,
Has seen, on journeying through the Strand,
A foreign image-vender stand
Near Somerset's quadrangle.

His coal-black eye, his balanced walk,
His sable apron, white with chalk,
His listless meditation,
His curly locks, his sallow cheeks,
His board of celebrated Greeks,
Proclaim his trade and nation.