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Young Jehu, tott'ring in his seat,
Now wish'd to pull them in ; But pulling from so young a hand
They valued not a pin.
half the way;
A drove of grunting pigs before
And made a rueful day :
For some were trampled under foot,
Some crush'd beneath the wheel;
And how the pigs did squeal !
A farmer's wife, on old blind Ball,
Went slowly on the road,
In two large panniers stow'd.
Ere Ball could stride the rut, amain
The gig came thund'ring on,
And Ball lay overthrown.
Now through the town the mettled pair
Ran ratt'ling o'er the stones;
And shook poor Jehu's bones.
When lo! directly in their course,
A monstrous form appear'd;
On hinder legs uprear'd.
Sideways they started at the sight,
And whisk'd the gig half round, Then cross the crowded market-place
They flew with furious bound.
First o'er a heap of crock'ry ware
The rapid car they whirld ; And jugs, and mugs, and pots, and pans,
In fragments wide they hurl'd.
A booth stood near with tempting cakes
And groc'ry richly fraught; All Birmingham on t'other side
The dazzled optics caught.
With active spring the nimble steeds
Rush'd through the pass between, And scarcely touch'd ; the car behind,
Got through not quite so clean :
For while one wheel one stall engag'd,
Its fellow took the other ; Dire was the clash ; down fell the booths,
And made a dreadful pother.
Nuts, oranges, and gingerbread,
And figs here rollid around;
Bestrew'd the glitt'ring ground.
The fall of boards, the shouts and cries,
Urg'd on the horses faster; And as they flew, at ev'ry step
They caus'd some new disaster.
Here lay o'erturn'd, in woful plight,
A pedlar and his pack;
All London went to wrack.
But now the fates decreed to stop
The ruin of the day,
A heavy reck'ning pay.
A ditch there lay both broad and deep,
Where streams as black as Styx From every quarter of the town
Their muddy currents mix.
Down to its brink in heedless haste
The frantic horses flew,
Their burden overthrew.
The prostrate gig with despårate force
They soon pull'd out again, And at their heels, in ruin dire,
Dragg'd lumb'ring o'er the plain.'
Here lay a wheel, the axle there,
The body there remain'd,
Nor name nor shape retain'd.
But Jehu must not be forgot,
Left flound'ring in the flood, With clothes all drenchd, and mouth and eyes
Beplaster'd o'er with mud.
In piteous case he waded through
And gain'd the slipp'ry side,
To mock his fallen pride.
They led him to a neighbouring pump
To clear bis dismal face,
Involvd in sore disgrace.
His father had to pay.
From Jehu's first essay.
WHY AN APPLE FALLS.
Papa (said Lucy,) I have been reading to-day, that Sir Isaac Newton was led to make some of his great discoveries by seeing an apple fall from a tree.
What was there extraordinary in that?
P. There was nothing extraordinary ; but it happened to catch his attention, and set him a thinking.
L. And what did he think about?
A. He thought by what means the apple was brought to the ground.
L. Why I could have told him that --because the stalk gave way, and there was nothing to support it.
P. And what then ?
L. Why then-it must fall, you know.