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hold no meetings on Saturday; nor Chriftians, for they abftain alfo from Sunday. They date their week from Monday, the day of their folemn affembly! and their calendar is confequently different from either the English or French. Although fome imagined that they might become formidable to the state by their opulence, it did not appear that they had much wealth. As they remained together part of two days, each perfon brought his own provifions, which were thrown into a common ftock, for the fubfiftence of the whole fociety. In this they fhewed rather ingenuity than extravagance, the great matter being to prevent an uniformity of difhes; for it fometimes happened that there were more calves heads than were worth dreffing, and more buttocks of beef than had room. Chickens were in high favour, as enlivening. the entertainment with merry-thoughts; and game and will-fowl were in great plenty.

At

The manner in which this fingular fociety has difappeared, contributes as much to puzzle the curious, as their origin or exiftence. Indeed, the common people talk very ftrangely on this fubject. one time it was propofed that they should go off by water; but the oppofite element has generally been preferred; and the populace are ready to fwear that they have feen Lords and Ladies, Dukes and Dutchesses flying off in the fhape of Squibs and crackers, and Catharine wheels and rockets, and leaving a fulphureous smell behind, which, in the ideas of the vulgar, is always connected with a certain place not fit to be mentioned in polite company. It is acknowledged, however, on all hands, that the inftitution of " a harmless and inoffenfive fociety of perfons of fashion," is one of thofe projects which, of all others, is most likely to end in air!

A PIC-NIC ODE: BY THE MANAGER.
[From the Oracle.}

BRING the foup, the calves-foot jelly,

Fat capons, prize-beef, ham and chickens,
Blancmange and strengthening vermicelli→→→
Ye Gods, what pretty Pic-Nic pickings !
Set the benches in a row,

Louder yet the trumpets blow;
Snuff the candles, ftir the fire,
Put the patent lamps ftill higher;

Flaf blue lightnings, rattle thunder,

We'll read Monk Lewis' "Tales of Wonder !"
And then in notes more fweet than Banti,
Glees fhall be fung by Dilettanti;
But only act on crowded nights

Th appropriate play, "The Bellamites.”
Yet hold! emotions dire alarm my foul,
With fierce despair my frantic eyeballs roll!
I fear Jack Townfend, Pat M'Manus,
With Rivett, Croaker, Mr. Sayers,
Will take us up for ftrolling players;
Or, if relifting, Gad, they'll brain us.
What fall we do? The mitchief's brewing;
Ch! how avert impending ruin?

Prompter, bring us poison'd bowls

(1 hear 'em coming, d

their souls!)

blunted daggers, wooden fpears,

Or wrong or right,

We'll bravely fight,

Till Toti'bham Street come tumb'ing 'bout our ears,
And make these favage dogs, thefe rogues infernal,
Dread the keen vengeance of the Pic-Nic Colonel!

PROLOGUE,

INTENDED TO BE SPOKEN AT THE NEXT MEETING OF THE PIC-NIC SOCIETY, BY THE MANAGER.

SIR,

To the Editor of the Morning Paft.

HAVING picked up at the last meeting of the Pic Nic, the enclofed lines, dropped, as I fuppofe,

from

from the pocket of fome member, and not knowing whofe property they were, I take the liberty of fending them to you, that they may not be loft altogether; and I know no better way of making them public than through the channel of The Morning Poft.

Ever yours,

PICKYNICKY.

TO curb and lafh the vices of the age,
Has ever been the province of the stage;
To catch the living manners as they rife,
And with keen fhaft shoot Folly as the flies;
Unveil the subtle gamefter's mazy wiles,
And fnatch the beardlefs ftripling from his toils;
Expofe the arts which poifon focial life,

And break the facred bond 'twixt man and wife.
If fuch its objects, are not you to blame
To see yourselves held up to public flame?
Made the mere inftruments of vulgar mirth,
No favour fhewn to splendour or to birth?
Food for the laughter of a motley tribe,
Of ev'ry paltry artifan the gibe ?-

his wife?

What-fhall you fit whole hours yourselves to fee
Drawn to the life by fenfeless ribaldry,
Your vices, follies, habits, manners, lives,
The jeft of tailors and of tailors' wives?
And shall you fit, and hear the loud applause
Which from the galleries the actor draws,
When he pourtrays from fashionable life,
My Lord a gambler, and a w
The picture drawn fo true, the hints fo nice,
All know the Dutchefs, and his Grace of Dice..
Oh! leave to vulgar fouls their vulgar noise,
Yours be more delicate and polish'd joys ;-
No moral leffons here fhall give offence,
Our wit fans humour, and our found fans fenfe.
French proverbs, mufic French, French fongs, French:

dances,

French morals, manners French, and French romances;

Then we'll have Pic-Nic fuppers-French too thefe-
French pies, French foups, French wines, French fricaffees;
So French you 'il be, 't will hardly gain belief
Your anceffors e'er ventur'd on roast beef.

Send then your wives, ye high-bred hufbands, here,
And for your daughters entertain no fear:

Here they fhall learn (fo fertile our resources!)
How to make marriages, and how

*****

* * * ** &c. &c. &c.

We must be excufed from inferting the remainder of the Prologue, as we do not impute any evil defign to the authors of the Pic-Nic; we only caution them against the evils that will probably refult from their fcheme.

A FASHIONABLE ETYMOLOGY.

CRITICS have tried each tongue and trick,

To find how now fuch a term as Nic

Should be adopted in the name

Of Tott'nham's Dilettanti game.
But fure it fhews th' inventor's wit,
An emblematic term to hit

So pat, that one from thence may find
The nature of the thing defign'd.

Thus chemifts name their falts and airs;
Thus, at 'Change-alley, bulls and bears;
Phantasmagorias, Panoramas,

And names of all (but modern) dramas.
Thus aptly Nic denotes a fcene,
Play'd heretofore behind the screen,
But now in public practis'd o'er,
Not two by two, but fcore by score:
An act that arms the front for war,
On either fide of Temple Bar,
And cits and lords alike adorns-
Nic is the devil with tail and horns.

SHAKESPEARIAN

SHAKESPEARIAN PARODY ON THE PIC-NIC.

[From the Oracle.]

HITHER, ye Mufes! hither quick,
And fing the praifes of Pic-Nic.

Who but would go through thin and thick,
To taste the joys of dear Pic-Nic!
'T would raise the dead and heal the fick,
To pals an evening at Pic-Nic.

The Duke, the Lord, the 'Squire, and Dick,
All feem impatient for Pic-Nic.
What Phyllis does behind the rick,
We'll flily practise at Pic-Nic.
E'en anchorites their lips might lick
At recollection of Pic- Nic.
When out of cash we'll run a tick,
Rather than give up our Pic-Nic.
The die we'll cog, and cards we 'll trick,
And drink and revel at Pic-Nic.
All morals out of doors we 'll kick,
And facrifice them to Pic-Nic.

There every cock fhall have his chick,
Cluck, crow, and cackle at Pic-Nic.
We fear not Mafter Townsend's stick,
He dares not interrupt Pic-Nic.
Let hautboys ftun, and fiddles fqueak,
And baffes grumble forth Pic-Nic:
While we with univerfal fhriek,

Squall out like mad-Long live Pic-Nic!

THE TOTTENHAM ROSALIND.

A PARTING WISH TO THE PIC-NICS.

IN the region of Styx,

Once a corps of Pic-Nics

Began to act plays, and act farces;

Which provok'd Old Nick fo,

That with his cloven toe

He indignantly kick'd all their

May our Pic-Nics above
No fuch rough ufage prove,

K6

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