But still he seemed to carry weight,

With leathern girdle braced; For all might see the bottle necks Still dangling at his waist.

Thus all through merry Islington,
These gambols he did play,
Until he came unto the Wash
Of Edmonton so gay;

And here he threw the Wash about,
On both sides of the way,
Just like unto a trundling mop,
Or a wild goose at play.

At Edmonton, his loving wife

From the balcony spied

Her tender husband, wondering much

To see how he did ride.

Stop, stop, John Gilpin! Here's the house!" They all at once did cry;

"The dinner waits, and we are tired:

Said Gilpin- "So am I!"

"What news? what news? your tidings tell,

Tell me you must and shall
Say why bareheaded you are come,

Or why you come at all?"

Whence straight he came with hat and wig

A wig that flowed behind,

A hat not much the worse for wear,
Each comely in its kind.

Ah! luckless speech, and bootless boast,

For which he paid full dear;

For while he spake, a braying ass

Did sing most loud and clear;

Whereat his horse did snort, as he
Had heard a lion roar,

And galloped off with all his might,
As he had done before.

Away went Gilpin, and away
Went Gilpin's hat and wig:
He lost them sooner than at first,
For why?-they were too big.

Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw
Her husband posting down

Into the country far away,

She pulled out half a crown;

And thus unto the youth she said,

That drove them to the Bell,

"This shall be yours, when you bring back

My husband safe and well."

The youth did ride, and soon did meet

John coming back amain;

Whom in a trice he tried to stop
By catching at his rein;

But not performing what he meant,
And gladly would have done,
The frighted steed he frighted more
And made him faster run.

Away went Gilpin, and away

Went postboy at his heels,

The postboy's horse right glad to miss
The lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road,
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With postboy scampering in the rear,
They raised the hue and cry:-

"Stop thief! stop thief!-a highwayman!"
Not one of them was mute;

And all and each that passed that way
Did join in the pursuit.

And now the turnpike gates again

Flew open in short space;
The tollmen thinking as before,

That Gilpin rode a race.

And so he did, and won it too,
For he got first to town;

Nor stopped till where he had got up
He did again get down.

Now let us sing long live the King,

And Gilpin, long live he;

And when he next doth ride abroad,
May I be there to see!

THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL.

BY RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN.

[RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN: A British dramatist; born in Dublin, September 30, 1751; died in London, July 7, 1816. His father was an actor, his mother the author of several plays, and his mind naturally turned toward the drama. His first play, "The Rivals" (1774), was performed January 17, 1775, at Covent Garden Theater, and at first met with utter failure. It was later revised and reproduced, and was successful. Among his other plays are: "St. Patrick's Day; or, the Scheming Lieutenant," first produced May 2, 1775; the book of a comic opera, "Duenna," November 21, 1775; “A Trip to Scarborough," February 24, 1775; "The School for Scandal," May 8, 1777; and "The Critic," October 30, 1779. In 1776 he succeeded David Garrick as manager of the Drury Lane Theater, and in 1780 he entered politics as a member of Parliament. He subsequently neglected his dramatic work for politics, was financially ruined, and finally arrested for debt.]

Scene: A Room in SIR PETER TEAZLE'S House.

Enter SIR PETER TEAZLE.

Sir Peter-When an old bachelor marries a young wife, what is he to expect? 'Tis now six months since Lady Teazle made me the happiest of men and I have been the most miserable dog ever since! We tiffed a little going to church, and