And perched on the grand chandelier;
The dinner was stately, the tables were full--
There sat, multiplied by three thousand, John Bull,
Resolved to make all disappear.

"'And then came the speeches; Lord Hunter was fine--
Lord Wood, finer still--Lord Thompson, divine,
The sheriffs were Ciceros a-piece;
Lord Crowther was sick, though he managed to eat
What, if races were feasts, would have won him the plate;
But he tossed off a bumper to Greece.

"'Then all was enchantment--all hubbub and smiles--
The wit of Old Jewry, the grace of St. Giles,
The force of the Billingsgate tongue:
Till the eloquent Lord Mayor demanding 'Who malts?'--
The understood sign for beginning the waltz--
In a fright through the ceiling I sprung.'"


_Monthly Magazine_.

* * * * *


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A LANDAULET.

(_Concluded from page 302_.)