"The reason is," the workman said,
"As you may soon discern,
The dinner that I eat so fast
Takes fourteen hours to earn.
But should I eat the whole day long,
My jaws would tire so,

I reckon the work would be as hard-
And you'd find me just as slow."

MISS BUNKS.

JOHN GEORGE WATTS.]

Tune-" Villikins and his Dinah."

ONCE at Hygate lived a fam❜ly,
But for this unknown to fame;
Most respecterbullest people,
Notwithstandin' Bunks by name.
Mr. Wilyam Bunks, Ersquier,
Kep' a footman, Tomas Brown,
Wich the 'ousemaids did admier,
All the way to London town.

Tomas Brown 'ad bushee viskers,
And a kurley 'ed o' 'air,

And a kipple o' karves hoose eakvals
Coodent be found any vare.
W'en he got behind the karridge,
And he riz upon their vews,
Five feet ten he stood afore 'em,
Five feet nine without his shoes.

Slender 'ousemaids' eyes would glissen
As the karridge took its flight,
And fat kooks wot scarce cood voddle,
Arter it wood take a site.

But this footman node his manners,
Seem'd a gen'l'man born and bred,
And from kooks, and 'ouse, and nus-maids
Allvays turned avay his 'ed.

Mister Bunks he 'ad a doorter,

Not pertick'lar 'ansum she,
Not pertick'lar hugly neether,
Wich most people did agree.
She wos werry short in stature,
But a plumpish kind o' lass;
'Air as black as any black'moor's,
Eyes as bright as shinen brass.

One day Tomas Brown the footman,
W'en old Bunks vos out o' site,
As he 'elped her from the karridge,
Felt his arm squedged werry tite.
Vos it, vos it haxidental!

Vos it 'cos she feared a fall?
No! the side vay look she guv him
Plainly told him—not at all.

How his buzzum flitter-fluttered,
How his 'art went pit-a-pat,
Yes, she luv'd him, and no gammon,
Squedge and look 'ad taught him that.

W'en he carried in the dinner,

She was oppersite the door; And another look she guv him, Jest as she had dun afore.

That there look it made him tremble
Vith hexitement; and he kood
Skarsely 'and for them the plates round,
As they served the preshus food.
W'en the seventh corse was horder'd,
Then agen he cawt her eye,

And he stumbled, and he tumbled
Sprawlin' vith a damsun pie.

Missus Bunks, she did upbraid him ;
Mister Bunks, him warnin' guv;
But Miss Bunks, she did regard him
On'y vith a look o' lov.

The next afternoon, while guv❜ner
Vos a nappin'-O, so svete-
Tomas Brown vos in the parlour,
'Neelin' at Miss Bunks's feet!

The next mornin' Miss vos missen,
Tomas Brown vos missen, too;
And a letter left by she, sed,

That toogether they 'ad flew.
That T. Brown's most genteel manner
'Ad made her young buzzum smart;
And his figger, karves, and viskers,
Kvite kumpletely vun her 'art.

At the noose her mother fainted,
And her father svore a noath,
That he'd search ontil he found 'em,
And then 'niherlate 'em both.
But vilst Missus vos in histrikes,
Bein' to her chamber karried,
Tomas Brown to her fair doorter
Vos by lysense bein' married.

'Ardly 'ad the moon commenced
Wot's so werry full o' hunney,
W'en one mornin' at the brekfust,

Brown," ses she, "you look so funny. Grashus 'evins! vears your viskers ?"

Brown's hand felt upon his cheek— "Vear, O tell me, vear's your karves run ?" Brown, he not a vurd kood speak.

Fatal herror! He 'ad taken
His false viskers orf to die,
And his 'orsehare karves forgotten,
Wich in his bedroom did lie.
'Twas too much-she koodent bare it,
All vos false vitch she'd admired:
But his karves so kut her sole up,
Past all heelin'-she hexpir'd!

MORAL.

:

Ladies, listen to my moral :-
If your footman you hadmires,
'Kos he's got a nobby figger,

And he to your hand haspires.
W'en the day you've fixt for runnin',
Recollect Miss Bunks's fate!
Pinch his karves and pull his viskers,
Lest you find 'em false too late.

THE EARLY CLOSING MOVEMENT. [Tune-"Fanny Grey."

JAMES B. TOMALIN.]

Gent. "IF you're waking, don't disturb me; call me later, there's a dear;

For though I can't account for it, I feel a little

queer:

To-morrow, you know, is Sunday, so I think at home I'll stay,

Instead of going to church, and have a nice long quiet day.

Lady. "If I'm waking !-precious chance of sleeping I shall get,

What with tossing and with snoring! Don't tell me! I'm not your pet ;

It's that good-for-nothing friend of yours who's welcome to the term:

Ah, you may well look scared to find you've rcused the trodden worm !"

Gent. "Well really, now, it's hard upon a fellow-just for what?

I caught the last but one, and here's a wigging I

have got !

It's the only day for comfort, and I'm sure we never

wish

For more than a plain joint, and, p'rhaps, a little bit of fish."

Lady. "Plainer joints than I see daily I defy you, sir, to find,

And a bit of fish in matting packed you never used to mind,

When the 'five o'clock' you rarely missed on Satur day from town,

And at six, or so, we constantly sat comfortably down."

Gent. "At six, my treasure! Obsolete, unscientific hour,

Quite exploded since the glorious recent Movement's moral power

(Early closing, shutters hoisting, locking desks) has

set us free

For a healthy promenade, love, and a sober meal at three."

Lady. "Promenade, love! gallivanting, you had better say at once;

But be good enough to notice that I'm not quite such a dunce

As not to know that four from ten are six, my lord;

so pray

What healthy pastime filled up the remainder of the day?"

Gent. "Six hours, my little dar-well, Jemima, if preferred;

But to reckon time in that way is so palpably absurd!

Why, digestion and the topics of the current week

require

Two hours at least, and then a little chat before the

fire

Lady. "Before the fire! domestic scene! Behind the fire, you mean,

Of your cigars, which cannot help revealing where you've been.