" So much for the design,
which is far more congenial to our feelings than the thousand and one
sonnets, pointless epigrams, laments, and monodies, which are usually
showered from crimson and gold envelopes at this dull season of the
year. There are thirty-seven pieces--all in humorous and "righte merrie
conceite." We shall give a few random extracts, or specimens, and then
run over the cuts. Our first is--(and what should it be?)
NUMBER ONE.
"It's very hard! and so it is,
To live in such a row,
And witness this, that every Miss
But me has got a beau.
For Love goes calling up and down,
But here he seems to shun.
I'm sure he has been asked enough
To call at Number One!
"I'm sick of all the double knocks
That come to Number Four!
At Number Three I often see
A lover at the door;
And one in blue, at Number Two,
Calls daily like a dun,--
It's very hard they come so near
And not at Number One.
"Miss Bell, I hear, has got a dear
Exactly to her mind,
By sitting at the window pane
Without a bit of blind;
But I go in the balcony,
Which she has never done,
Yet arts that thrive at Number Five
Don't take at Number One.
"'Tis hard with plenty in the street,
And plenty passing by,--
There's nice young men at Number Ten,
But only rather shy;
And Mrs. Smith across the way
Has got a grown-up son.
But la! he hardly seems to know
There is a Number One!
"There's Mr.
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