and when the time came duly,—“at the close of

the day,” as beattie has it, “when the ham—”

bacon and pork were ready to dispose of,

and pettitoes and chit’lings too, to cram,—

walked in the h. n. b. and double s.’s,

all in appropriate and swinish dresses,

for lo! it is a fact, and not a joke,

although the muse might fairly jest upon it,

they came—each “pig-faced lady,” in that bonnet

we call a poke.

[pg 118]

the members all assembled thus, a rare woman

at pork and poetry was chosen chairwoman;—

in fact, the bluest of the blues, miss ikey,

whose whole pronunciation was so piggy,

she always named the authoress of “psyche”—

as mrs. tiggey!

and now arose a question of some moment,—

what author for a lecture was the richer,

bacon or hogg? there were no votes for beaumont,

but some for flitcher;

while others, with a more sagacious reasoning,

proposed another work,

and thought their pork

would prove more relishing from thomson’s season-ing!

but, practised in shakspearian readings daily—

o! miss macaulay! shakspeare at hog’s norton!—

miss anne priscilla isabella grayley

selected him that evening to snort on.

in short, to make our story not a big tale,

just fancy her exerting

her talents, and converting

the winter’s tale to something like a pig-tale!

her sister auditory

all sitting round, with grave and learned faces,

were very plauditory,

of course, and clapped her at the proper places;

[pg 119]

till fanned at once by fortune and the muse,

she thought herself the blessedest of blues.

but happiness, alas! has blights of ill,

and pleasure’s bubbles in the air explode;—

there is no travelling through life but still

the heart will meet with breakers on the road!

with that peculiar voice

heard only from hog’s norton throats and noses,

miss g., with perdita, was making choice

of buds and blossoms for her summer posies,

when coming to that line, where proserpine

lets fall her flowers from the wain of dis;

imagine this—

uprose on his hind legs old farmer grayley,

grunting this question for the club’s digestion,

“do dis’s waggon go from the ould bäaley?”