A LITTLE LOT FOR MR. GEORGE ROBINS! BY JOYCE JOCUND. HAIL, Mr. Robins! first of auctioneers! No rival's clamour, Can render impotent your potent hammer; (As quickly as your arguments do fallacies); "THE SOLEMN TEMPLES, AND THE GORGEOUS PALACES!" Nought can withstand Your practised hand, From peasant's cottages, to When needy folk expectant heirs are ridding Of" GOOD ESTATES.' Oh! it is sweet the while To mark your smile, And watch your keen eye looking out for bidding! Might seek to purchase such "A SYLVAN SCENE "" Transforming in a trice Desolate tracts into "A PERFECT PARADISE!" With all your landscapes, picturesquely showing And Through green vales flowing LOTS" of "WATER-MILLS, for ever" going! "A MAJESTIC WOOD," Something of a A sort of I ask you, in all courtesy, of course, Which like "THE NILE," Had but a questionable source? And are not many "MANSIONS," Country ones, and town, But well "puffed up," to be as well "knocked down"? The world with tempting offers, such as these, "THE GROVES OF BLARNEY?" BABIOGRAPHY: BEING A DISSERTATION UPON BABY-MONSTERS. "Et oris parvalorum," &c. I AM inclined to believe that the next generation will be distinguished above all that have preceded it, by an extraordinary developement of intellectual energy arising from the introduction of infant schools into England. I happen at the present time to be acquainted (in a very limited circle) with at least a hundred juvenile Crichtons and infant prodigies, who promise to adorn almost every station in life, the church, the senate, and the bar,-the court, the camp, and the counting-house. I have in my mind's eye at this present writing an embryo Lord Chancellor just breeched,-a bluff little Wellington staggering about in a go-cart, and an indubitable Byron just put into the "as in præsenti." It is astonishing that Southey has not noticed this remarkable feature of the age in discussing the "Prospects of Society," or Bulwer in discoursing of the "Intellectual Spirit of the Times." When I consider the present state of infant education, I have little doubt that, when the rising generation shall have "pushed us from our stools," delighted audiences will listen to lisping lectures on political economy, weep over the pathos of pigmy Macreadys, and laugh at liliputian Listons. In our nurseries, "Tom Thumb" will give way to Bacon's Essays, and "Blue Beard" be superseded by Jeremy Bentham; the hoyden, who is now ignominiously employed in licking chalk and craunching slate-pencil, will be transformed into a Joanna Baillie, a Jamieson, or a Martineau: wringing the heart with tragic fiction, delighting with graceful and delicate criticism, or puzzling with essays on population. I have been led into these reflections from having lately had an opportunity of observing the habits, tempers, and talents of three or four of these baby-monsters in a single family, and who, to my immortal honour, call me by the endearing name of uncle. I am a middle-aged man, of a reserved and somewhat nervous temperament, scrupulously regular in my habits, and critically neat in my apparel. I am exceedingly fond of children, when one is secured from the violence of their affectionate playfulness by an able-bodied nursemaid; though I must confess I should prefer them if they could be exhibited in a glass case, like the beautiful insects in the British Museum. It was during the last winter that I was invited to spend a few days with a married sister in the country, who has for many years been in the habit of presenting annually to her "adoring" husband one or more of the "little responsibilities" of which I am about to discourse. On entering the drawing-room, I found my sister lying on the sofa, (for she had just been making one of her annual presentations,) surrounded by her young and interesting family. I had a fine opportunity of observing the animal beauty of their persons, from the various postures and attitudes in which they were displayed. Some were climbing the backs of chairs, some were tumbling and spread-eagling" on the floor, and others were exhi (As quickly as your arguments do fallacies); "THE SOLEMN TEMPLES, AND THE GORGEOUS PALACES!" Nought can withstand Your practised hand, From peasant's cottages, to When needy folk expectant heirs are ridding Of" GOOD ESTATES.' Oh! it is sweet the while To mark your smile, And watch your keen eye looking out for bidding! Might seek to purchase such "A SYLVAN SCENE Had but a questionable source? And are not many "MANSIONS," Country ones, and town, But well "puffed up," to be as well "knocked down"? The world with tempting offers, such as these, "THE GROVES OF BLARNEY?" BABIOGRAPHY: BEING A DISSERTATION UPON BABY-MONSTERS. "Et oris parvalorum," &c. I AM inclined to believe that the next generation will be distinguished above all that have preceded it, by an extraordinary developement of intellectual energy arising from the introduction of infant schools into England. I happen at the present time to be acquainted (in a very limited circle) with at least a hundred juvenile Crichtons and infant prodigies, who promise to adorn almost every station in life,-the church, the senate, and the bar,-the court, the camp, and the counting-house. I have in my mind's eye at this present writing an embryo Lord Chancellor just breeched,-a bluff little Wellington staggering about in a go-cart,—and an indubitable Byron just put into the "as in præsenti." It is astonishing that Southey has not noticed this remarkable feature of the age in discussing the "Prospects of Society," or Bulwer in discoursing of the "Intellectual Spirit of the Times." When I consider the present state of infant education, I have little doubt that, when the rising generation shall have "pushed us from our stools," delighted audiences will listen to lisping lectures on political economy, weep over the pathos of pigmy Macreadys, and laugh at liliputian Listons. In our nurseries, "Tom Thumb" will give way to Bacon's Essays, and "Blue Beard" be superseded by Jeremy Bentham; the hoyden, who is now ignominiously employed in licking chalk and craunching slate-pencil, will be transformed into a Joanna Baillie, a Jamieson, or a Martineau: wringing the heart with tragic fiction, delighting with graceful and delicate criticism, or puzzling with essays on population. I have been led into these reflections from having lately had an opportunity of observing the habits, tempers, and talents of three or four of these baby-monsters in a single family, and who, to my immortal honour, call me by the endearing name of uncle. I am a middle-aged man, of a reserved and somewhat nervous temperament, scrupulously regular in my habits, and critically neat in my apparel. I am exceedingly fond of children, when one is secured from the violence of their affectionate playfulness by an able-bodied nursemaid; though I must confess I should prefer them if they could be exhibited in a glass case, like the beautiful insects in the British Museum. It was during the last winter that I was invited to spend a few days with a married sister in the country, who has for many years been in the habit of presenting annually to her "adoring" husband one or more of the "little responsibilities" of which I am about to discourse. On entering the drawing-room, I found my sister lying on the sofa, (for she had just been making one of her annual presentations,) surrounded by her young and interesting family. I had a fine opportunity of observing the animal beauty of their persons, from the various postures and attitudes in which they were displayed. Some were climbing the backs of chairs, some were tumbling and spread-eagling" on the floor, and others were exhi biting (as my sister observed) the original state of human nature, (which, according to the "Philosopher of Malmesbury," is a "state of warfare,") by pulling each other's hair. On my appearance the little rebels all crowded round their mother, and reminded me of Lord Byron's beautiful simile of " cherubs round an altar-piece ;" though, from their screams and vociferations on the present occasion, I could only think of that class of "cherubim" of which it is written that they "continually do cry." When our first salutations were over, my sister hastened to inform me of all those interesting and important matters that so affectingly agitate the maternal mind. Bob had a slight touch of the hoopingcough; Augustus (for syncope Gutty) was just going to be vaccinated; little Emma, it was feared, had caught the measles; "the baby" was to be christened next week; and a tall pale girl, in a pinafore and curl-papers, was about to be confirmed. It was then remembered that I had not seen "the baby," and Bob was directed to ring for it. I confess I felt considerable nervousness whilst awaiting its arrival. In all probability I should be requested to take it in my arms-I am very short-sighted-I might take hold of the wrong end-I might let it fall-it might. But it was useless to harass oneself with these distressing anticipations whilst the enemy was at the gate." I am not aware that the little stranger (which sure enough was put into my arms) differed in any important particular from the usual specimens of infant humanity. It had a little, puckered, kitten-face, of a pale brick-dust colour, and evinced, on handling, that excess of " radical heat and radical moisture,” which I am told is the universal characteristic of early babyhood. I felt considerably relieved when it was removed, though I had suffered no farther inconvenience than a slight derangement of my dress, the little creature having left round my neck a part of its apparel, which I have since learnt is technically called " a bib." 65 I cannot tell how long I might have been indulged with the playful gambols of my young relatives, had not Bob (who had climbed up the back of my chair, and was amusing himself with the innocent recreation of tugging my hair, and poking a pair of scissors into my ear) at this moment fallen squat upon the carpet, with a sound similar to the dab of a young rook tumbling from the nest. The little barbarian stared about him for a moment, just to collect his energies, and then set up a roar that would have roused the Seven Sleepers: it was deemed advisable that the interesting sufferer should be removed. Shortly afterwards the room was cleared, (after a brisk and spirited resistance on the part of the rebels,) by the united prowess of a footman of six-feet-two, and a Patagonian nursemaid. To console me, however, for the loss of their lively society, my sister promised me an exhibition of their various talents, which she assured me were of the highest order, on the morrow. On the following day I was requested to attend a morning concert, to be performed by the baby-monsters in the school-room. The lean girl in the pinafore and curl-papers presided at the piano. Bob, on being called upon, performed a solo on a penny trumpet, which his mother assured me had been considered by competent judges as promising to rival the best performances of Harper. Gutty," who was about four years old, delighted us with a fantasia on the Jews'-harp, and afterwards with a very elaborate per |