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TO A WOOLLEN DOLL.

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TO A WOOLLEN DOLL. Ah Joey, ancient friend of mine, 'Tis years indeed, since last we met; But, 'spite the knocks and rubs of time, Thy limbs are perfect yet: Scarlet thy cheek, and still unchanged Thy locks of jet. That smile, too! Ah, that I could smile As thou hast done, thro' foul and fair. Those woollen legs unbreakable! That shock of hair! Thy tiny nose! thy one bland eye Of earthenware! All this I see; but more than this: For in the mem'ry. as I gaze, Arise the thoughts of other times— The happiness of other days. Strange, the droll features of a doll A tear should raise! But, Joey, I'll not envy thee; Thou feelest nought of earthly woes— No human pain. But where the gain? Thy breast no pleasure knows. Forgotten is the envious thorn When plucked the rose. H. S.

BREES TON HALL.

A TALE OF REVENGE.

WIT AND HUMOUR.

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FROM PONTYPOOL TO CALCUTTA

[No title]

A LICENSING QUESTION.

EXTRAORDINARY OCCURRENCE AT…

ALARMING ACCIDENT AND EXCITING…

PAWNBROKERS AND THEIR LIABILITIES'

SAD AFFAIR NEAR ORMSKIRK.

[No title]

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FARMING AND THE CORNTRADE.

LONDON CORRESPONDENCE.