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WWJ> VuW Wf sSST **% f T ° THB FATUOUS OF THE B(DUrttailllßH m!IB.<BIB&ILA£rsr Another year has sped its rapid flight, More swiftly than the glancing rays of light; Like a deep current rolling to the sea, Time bears us on its waves perpetually. How many changes hath a year proclaimed, Among the poor, the rich, the low, the famed— How many visions of oui blithesome youth Have been dispelled before the light of truth— How many blooming hopes, joyous and bright, Have drooped beneath Time’s withering blight— How many struggling for their Country’s fame, Have hardly won an honorable name— How many toiling for this world’s poor stuff, Are toiling yet, and yet have not enough— How many maidens have their lovers lost, Young Bucks quite green, not worth, at best, first cost— How many folks have set their wits to work, \ To live by blarney, or by quip, or quirk, > Who strut as big as any turban’d Turk] ‘ Ah, there’s the rub. Now pray, sirs, shall I tune My harp to sing the derge of the “ old ’Coon,” Or chaunt the glories of Democracy, And Tyler too, and the Mobocracy ] Which will you have ] If none of these, We’ll talk of Harry Clay then, if you please, Or Dan Webster, Cass, or John C. Calhoun, Or Benton, sirs, or the man in the moon ; Or Tariff Laws, or the Exchequer plan, Or Boz’s “ Notes,” or Mrs. Trollope’s fan I If none of these shall please your better taste, To talk of things domestic we’ll now haste; And first of all, to turn an honest penny, We’ll chat awhile about the “Miscellany”— A handsome paper published in our town, Just struggling out from ’neath the world’s dark frown, To win its flattering smile; and toils to cheer Its worthy patrons all, from year to year. To Literature and Art it lends its aid, To Agriculture, Science and to Trade; And strives to give the latest Foreign news, Though Party and Religion it eschews. Religion ! no—excuse me now I pray, But neutral as to sects —that’s what I say. This weekly sheet for six months now, and more, Hath borne its varied treasures to your door, Laden with rarest gifts, for young and old, More precious far than pearls, or finest gold. The parent here may learn the happy way JANUARY 1, 1843. <fl<3 A ffij > <lLß4t©o> Os training up a child from day to day, And Lovers, old or young, can ascertain The modus operandi of Cupid’s reign. Full many a curious Cut adorns its page, With Tales and Poetry for every age. Its correspondents, too, a numerous host, Are quite as good as other Weeklies boast— For instance, “ Novice,” with her modest air, Stands number one —the brightest female star — And “ Quiz,” and “ Q,” and “ D.” and “ Joshua Swipes,” The man who used to smoke so many pipes ; And friend “ Jacob,” whose sir-name is “ Wishful,” Who can eat of “ rooster-pie,” a dish-full; And “ Tommy Teazewell,” the sign-board critic, Who is better known by some as W h: Likewise, there’s “J. Brown,” the “ Pinch back poet,” Who is full of fun and wit—l know it: “Observer.” too, and “ Quah,” and “ Major Jones,” That chap “whar” fell and almost broke his bones, “ A courtin’ Marv Stallions,” that same girl “ What’s” put the “ Major’s” head in “ sich a whirl And “ Jesse,” and “Quiff,” and “Peter Brombones”— And “ Toby Spooner,” who should not throw stones At other folks ; and “ One of the People,” Who wrote about the house that has no steeple. But time would fail to speak of all the facts Written out by “ Claude,” and “ Parks,” and “Pertinax,” “ Jotham Hotchkiss,” “ Boots,” and Eccentrio,” “Spectator,” “ One of them”—and many more. So pray excuse me, friends, and if you wish To feast your eyes upon a dainty dish, Served up in finest style, for all, or any, Subscribe at once for our new “ Miscellany”— And borrow no more, as some are wont to do, Thus cheating Patrons, and the Printer too. And should you ever visit our town To buy your pretty wife a nice silk gown, You’ll find our Dry-Goods merchants all supplied With goods, to please a wife, or deck a bride. Our Grocers, too, who live in “Beaver Tail, Can serve you up with Iron, Salt, or Ale ; And if your Cotton ranks from good to fair, The Gimblet-men to buy it—all are there. And now kind friends, I bid you all adieu— The Old Year’s gone, and we begin the new; May each be frugal, temperate and free, And live to sing the dirge of Forty-Three !