[Illustration: Appetite comes with eating, says Angeston.--RABELAIS,
bk. 1., ch. v.]
HUSBAND: _Now then, Old Gal; cook us about another pound and a half of
our home made bacon, and, then I do think I shall 'ave done for this
once._
WIFE: _Yes! Tom, but recollect that Parson said on Sunday last, that
poor folks, since the 'provements of cookery eat about twice as much as
nature requires._
HUSBAND: _Well! then we can't do no better than practice what Parson
preaches about, can we?_
ADELPHI THEATRE.
[Illustration]
BILLY WATERS.
SIGR. PAOLO'S,
Night.
BOX
QUEEN CAROLINE AND THE TEMPTER.
[Illustration]
And so they sent a MESSENGER,
To meet the Queen halfway;
And give her FIFTY THOUSAND POUNDS
If she abroad would stay;
And never more be call'd a Queen,
Or any such a thing,
But leave them with their daintv dish
To set before the King.
From a _brochure_ entitled the "GREEN BAG: or, a Dainty Dish to set
before a King." Published by Hone, and illustrated by Geo. Cruikshank.
[Illustration]
A DROP OF GIN!
[Illustration: GIN AND WATER.]
Gin! Gin! a Drop of Gin!
What magnified Monsters circle therein!
Ragged, and stained, with filth and mud,
Some plague-spotted, and some with blood!
Shapes of Misery, Shame, and Sin!
Figures that make us loathe and tremble,
Creatures scarce human, that more resemble
Broods of diabolical kin,
Ghoule and Vampyre, Demon and Jin!
[Illustration]
GIN, GIN, SWEET, SWEET GIN!
AIR.--_Home, Sweet Home._
Walk through London town, in Alley, Lane or Street,
Eight to ten of all the folks you overtake or meet,
List to what they talk about, you'll find amid the din,
The end of every conversation is a drop of Gin.
Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin,
There's no drops like Gin.
Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin,
There's no drops like Gin.
[Illustration]
When the world was young, as we read in classic page,
The shepherds drank the purling stream, and pass'd the golden age;
For purling streams or golden age folks now don't care a pin,
So that they can raise the brass to keep this age of Gin.
Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin,
There's no drops like Gin.
Gin, Gin, Hodge's Gin,
Gin, Gin, Hodge's Gin.
[Illustration]
When the weather's cold and bleak--in rain and frost and snow,
The Gin, the Gin they fly to, to warm them with its glow.
In summer time, to cool their heat, we see them all flock in,
And joy or sorrow, heat or cold, all seek relief in Gin.
Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin,
There's no drops like Gin.
Gin, Gin, Seager and Evans's Gin.
Gin, Gin, Seager and Evans's Gin.
Sir Richard Birnie sad, declares that never in his time,
Was seen so much depravity, want, misery and crime;
And all the brawls--the riotings--the day and nightly din,
Are caused by what he never tasted! filthy! horrid Gin!
Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin,
There's no drops like Gin.
Gin, Gin, Booth's Cordial Gin.
Gin, Gin, Booth's Cordial Gin.
[Illustration]
In India, when a Husband dies--the Widow ne'er can smile,
She's burnt alive, a sacrifice, upon her husband's pile;
In London many Wives and Widows deem it not a sin,
To sacrifice and burn themselves alive with fire of Gin.
Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin,
There's no drops like Gin.
Gin, Gin, Sir Robert Burnett's Gin.
Gin, Gin, Sir Robert Burnett's Gin.
[Illustration]
Decrepit age with furrow'd face, and one foot in the grave,
Hobbles on his crutches, and for a drop does crave;
Infants, e'er they plainly talk, perk up each little chin
And cry, oh mammy, daddy, baby d'ont a d'op o' din.
Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin,
There's no drops like Gin
Gin, Gin, Currie's strong Gin.
Gin, Gin, Currie's strong Gin.
[Illustration]
In former times we'd Goblins, Fairies, Witches, Ghosts and Sprites,
Who ruled the people's minds by day, and play'd sad pranks
o' nights;
But now the tales of Ghosts and such the people can't take in
They won't believe in Spirits, yet put all their faith in Gin.
Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin,
There's no drops like Gin.
Gin, Gin, Gaitskell's Gin.
Gin, Gin, Gaitskell's Gin.
[Illustration]
In the Reign of old Queen Bess good eating did prevail,
Her Majesty and all the Court would breakfast on strong ale;
But now through every Court, the folk the fashion to be in,
Would _ail_ all day, unless 'fore breakfast they could take
some Gin.
Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin,
There's no drops like Gin.
Gin, Gin, renovating Gin.
Gin, Gin, renovating Gin.
[Illustration]
Old women used to cheer their hearts and found it did agree,
By sometimes taking with a friend a cup _too_ much of tea;
But now they're much more _spirited_--for tea don't care a pin,
And only use their tea pots for a cup _too much_ of Gin.
Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin,
There's no drops like Gin.
Gin, Gin, tongue-relaxing Gin.
Gin, Gin, tongue-relaxing Gin.
Fighters take a "_a shove in the mouth_," though it is their bane,
Jack Ketch often has a "_drop_"--Scavengers a "_drain_";
Pris'ners "_half a yard of tape_" to get in merry pin,
And Actors oft get "_mellow_" with a "_mellow dram_" of Gin.
Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin,
There's no drops like Gin.
Gin, Gin, Tragic, Comic Gin.
Gin, Gin, Tragic, Comic Gin.
[Illustration]
Thompson's shop on Holborn Hill is crowded like a fair,
All the taps continually running out are there;
Swing swang go the doors, while some pop out and some pop in,
Foreigners must surely think that John Bull lives on Gin.
Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin,
There's no drops like Gin.
Gin, Gin, Deadley's OLD TOM Gin.
Gin, Gin, Deadley's OLD TOM Gin.
[Illustration]
This World was once deluged by water, drowning Son & Sire,
But when it is destroy'd again, we read 'twill be by fire;
And this must be the awful time, so prevalent is sin,
As all the wicked world do burn their insides out with Gin.
Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin,
There's no drops like Gin.
Gin, Gin, dear-seductive Gin.
Gin, Gin, dear-seductive Gin.
IF I HAD A DONKEY WOT WOULDN'T GO.
[Illustration]
THE ROYAL SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS was
instituted in 1824. Through its exertions hundreds of cases of cruelty
are annually prosecuted. Acts for the protection of animals were passed
in 1822 "Martin's Act," and in 1835 and 1839.
If I had a donkey wot wouldn't go,
D'ye think I'd wollop him?--no, no, no.
But gentle means I'd try, d'ye see,
Because I hate all cruelty;
If all had been like me, in fact,
There'd ha' been no occasion for Martin's act,
Dumb animals to prevent getting cracked--on the head.
For if I had a donkey wot wouldn't go,
I never would wollop him--no, no, no;
I'd give him some hay, and cry, Gee O!
And come up, Neddy--Heigh Oh!
What makes me mention this? This morn--
I seed that cruel chap, Bill Burn,
Whilst he was out a crying his greens,
His donkey wollop with all his means,
He hit him o'er his head and thighs,
He brought the tears up in his eyes,
At last my blood began to rise--
And I said--If I had a donkey, &c.
Bill turn'd and said to me--"Then, perhaps,
You're one of these Mr. Martin's chaps
Wot now is seeking for occasion--
All for to lie a hinformation."
Though this I stoutly did deny,
Bill up and gave me a blow in the eye,
And I replied as I let fly--
At his head--If I had a donkey, &c.
THE LAST NIGHT OF THE SEASON.
IT'S CHARLEY WRIGHT'S NIGHT.
Let those come now who never came before,
Let those who always come, now come once more.
[Illustration]
COME TO NIGHT THERE'LL BE.--
"Midnight shout and revelry
Tipsy dance and jollity."
MASQUERADE
(Patronised by the Haut-Ton).
the LAST THIS SEASON.--ARGYLL ROOMS, THURSDAY NEXT, June 28.--For Boxes
to view the Masquerade (without mixing in the motley group), Domino,
Character, and other Tickets, &c., apply to the Committee, at Mr.
Charles Wright's, Opera Colonnade, Haymarket, who will supply the Wines
on the occasion.
Come, come; good WINE is a good familiar creature, if it be well used.
[Illustration]
GOOD WINE NEEDS NO BUSH:--
TRY IT!
Fine Port and bright Sherry, well worthy of name,
Two Shillings per Bottle; Madeira the same;
Good Cape, Fifteen-pence; and the marvel to crown,
Champagne, Five and Sixpence, the cheapest in Town.
Opera Colonnade.
CHARLES WRIGHT.
----"Friends! I say that one sip of this:
Will bathe the drooping Spirits in delight
Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste."
Charley Wright _cum_ John Milton!
[Illustration: CHARLES WRIGHT'S
Apparition appearing to an Hypochondriac.
By CHARLES WRIGHT, Opera Colonnade,
Haymarket,
LONDON.]
WINE DEPOTS JUST OPENED.
No. 13, Northumberland-place, Commercial-road.
6, Providence-place, Kentish Town.
48, Chichester-place, Gray's-inn-lane.
4, Milner-place, Lambeth, near the Coburg Theatre.
1, Darlington-place, opposite Vauxhall Gardens.
65, Crawford-street, Mary-la-bonne.
4, Sussex-place, Kent-road.
13, St. James-street, Brighton.
A VIEW IN THE ISLE OF ANGLESEA.
[Illustration]
The above sketch was taken from nature in the Isle of Anglesea last
Autumn, from a spot not far from the seat of the Noble Marquess, who
derives his title from the Island. It presents an excellent profile
of the Marquess, and has often excited the attention and surprise of
the passing travellers. At a moment when his Lordship is so deservedly
popular the publication of this curiosity may not be unacceptable to
our readers.
SAM WELLER'S ADVENTURES!
A SONG OF THE PICKWICKIANS.
Who caus'd the smiles of rich and poor?
Who made a hit so slow, but sure?
And rose the worth of literature?--Sam Weller.
[Illustration]
I'm pretty well known about town,
For to gain a repute is my pride,
Though no vun can doubt my renown,
I'm a _covey of polish_ beside!
I renovates _cases_ for feet,
Vhether high lows or tops is the same,
I turns'em off hand werry neat,
And Samivel Veller's my name!--Fol lol, &c.
In the Borough my trade I dragged on,
Vith no vun to envy my sphere;
I polish'd the _soles_ of each don,
From the cadger bang up to the peer!
Their _understandings_ I greatly improv'd,
Vot happen'd to fall in the vay;
And many a gen'leman mov'd
To me in the course of the day.--Fol lol, &c.
Vun gen'leman--Pickvick, Esquire,
The head of the noted P.C.
Vun day tumbled in to enquire,
If I'd had the _fortin_ to see
A cove vearing Vellington _kicks_,
And a Miss Rachel Vardle beside,
Vot the gent had lugged off by the _nicks_,
And promis'd to make her his bride.--Fol lol, &c.
ALL ROUND THE ROOM.
[Illustration]
All round the room I waltzed with Ellen Taylor,
All round the room I waltz'd till break of day,
And ever since that time I've done nothing but bewail her,
Alas! she's gone to Margate, the summer months to stay.
'Twas at a ball at Islington I first chanc'd to meet her,
She really look'd so nice I couldn't keep my eyes away;
In all my life before I ne'er saw so sweet a creature,
She danc'd with me three hours, then fainted quite away.
_Spoken._--She was such a divine creature! I fell in love with her the
moment I saw her. I looked languishing at her, and she did the same at
me; then she gave such a sigh--such a heavy one!--you might have heard
it!----
All round the room, &c.
My Ellen's rather tall, and my Ellen's rather thin, too,
Her hair is rather sandy, and at singing she's _au fait_,
That she should leave me now I think it quite a sin, too,
I'm sure I shan't be happy all the time she is away.
_Spoken._--She was an angel! such a natural sort of woman! She wore a
bustle--that wasn't very natural, though--it was rather a largish one;
I suppose, upon a moderate calculation, it would have reached----
All round the room, &c.
JIM CROW.
[Illustration]
How are you massa gemmen,
An de ladies in a row,
All for to tell you whar I'm from,
I'se going for to go!
For I wheel about an turn about, an do just so,
An ebery time I turn about, I jump Jim Crow.
In 1836, Mr. T. D. Rice, who had previously appeared at the Surrey
Theatre, in "Bone Squash Diablo," made his first appearance at the
Adelphi, in a farcical Burletta, called "A Flight to America; or,
Twelve Hours in New York". The sketch, written for him by Mr. Leman
Rede, introduced Rice as a nigger, Yates as a Frenchman, and Mrs.
Stirling as Sally Snow--a coloured belle, Miss Daly, John Reeve, and
Buckstone strengthened the cast. "Jump Jim Crow" caught the fancy
of the town at once, and the familiar tune was soon to be heard
everywhere. Rice stayed through the whole season, playing an engagement
of twenty one weeks, then considered something extraordinary. For a
long period he performed at the Adelphi and the Pavilion Theatres the
same evening, and it was calculated that in so doing he had travelled
considerably more than a thousand miles, while being encored five times
at each theatre for 126 nights, it was easy to set down the figure
of 1,260 as representing the number of times he had sung "Jim Crow,"
during that period. Rice cleared by this engagement eleven hundred
pounds. A street-ballad of the day informed the public that it could
have:--
The Jim Crow rum, the Jim Crow gin,
The Jim Crow needle, and the Jim Crow pin;
The Jim Crow coat, the Jim Crow cigar;
The Jim Crow dad, and the Jim Crow ma';
The Jim Crow pipe, the Jim Crow hat.
The Jim Crow this, and the Jim Crow that.
[Illustration]
JIM CROW.
As sung by Mr. T. D. Rice, with tumultuous applause.
I came from ole Kentucky--A long time ago,
Where I first learn to wheel about--An jump Jim Crow.
Wheel about, &c.
I use to take de fiddle--Ebery morn and arternoon,
And charm de old buzzard--And dance to de racoon.
Wheel about, &c.
In hoeing ob de sugar--Or picking cotton, all de same,
I beat de oder niggers--And gib dem twenty in de game.
Wheel about, &c.
At last I went to seek my fortune--Got up by break of day,
Left my ole shoes behind me--And den I run away.
Wheel about, &c.
I come to a riber--Which I couldn't get across,
So I gib a couple ob shillings--For an old blind horse.
Wheel about, &c.
When I got upon the oder side--I drove him up a hill,
Oh, but de oder side--Look rather daffakil.
Wheel about, &c.
Den I jump on board de big ship--And cum across de sea,
And landed on Old England--Where de nigger am free.
Wheel about, &c.
There were a hundred-and-one versions of "Jim Crow," fresh stanzas
being added from day to day on the passing events, for the most part
written by Leman Rede, and Buckstone, the _honorarium_ offered by Rice
being one shilling per line. We select the above from the first version
as sung at the Surrey Theatre.
JIM ALONG JOSEY.
[Illustration]
Oh, I'se from Lusiana, as you must all know,
Dar's where Jim along Josey's all de go--
Dem nigger all rise when de bell does ring,
And dis am de song dat dey do sing.
Hey get along, get along Josey,
Hey get along, Jim along Joe--
Hey get along, get along Joe.
Hey get along, Jim along Joe.
Once old Jim Crow was dare all de go,
'Till he found him rival in Jim along Joe;
Now poor old Jim, dey hab put him to bed,
And Jim along Josey hab come in him stead.
Hey get along, &c.
Oh, when I get dat new coat I expects to hab soon,
Likewise de new pair tight knee'd Trousaloon;
I'll walk up and down Bond Street wid my Susanna,
And in my mout I smoke de real Habannah.
Hey get along, &c.
My sissa Rosa de oder night did dream,
Dat she was a floating up and down de stream,
And when she woke she did begin to cry,
"O! de white cat pick'd out de black cat's eye,"
Hey get along, &c.
DANDY JIM, FROM CAROLINE.
[Illustration]
I've often heard it said ob late,
Dat Souf Carolina was de state,
Whar a handsome nigga's bound to shine,
Like Dandy Jim, from Caroline.
For my ole massa tole me so,
I was de best looking nigga in de country, O,
I look in de glass an found 'twas so,
Just what massa tole me, O.
I drest myself from top to toe,
And down to Dinah I did go,
Wid pantaloons strapped down behine,
Like Dandy Jim, from Caroline.
For my ole massa, &c.
De bull dog cleared me out ob de yard,
I tought I'd better leabe my card,
I tied it fast to a piece ob twine,
Signed "Dandy Jim, from Caroline."
For my ole massa, &c.
"MONKEYANA."
[Illustration]
THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE FIRST.
We pray you, reader, to inspect
"The March of Gaming Intellect;"
Well Worthy of the observation
Of a pure rising generation.
Of gaming PUPPYS nothing new,
Why should not MONKEYS gamble too;
And, throwing off all moral fetters.
In vicious courses APE their betters?
This hopeful sprig, despising rule,
Creeps not like Shakspeare's boy to school
With learning stores his brain to hack,
The satchel dangling at his back;
More pleasant pastime having found,
See slate and satchel on the ground;
While pug proposes with knowing eye,
With Soot, the Sweep, to have a SHY.
Do mark his attitude so knowing,
"Woman or skull?--the copper's going."
Prime Boy! before you cease your fun,
I GUESS you'll be completely DONE;
This morning's prank you'll surely rue,
In loss of slate and satchel too,
Which, proof against all fear of LAGGING,
YOUNG SOOT is from its owner dragging.
BRUSH quickly with your prize, Young Grim,
'Twill be no heavy loss to him--
His course of study from this day
Will be a very different way.
[Illustration]
THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE SECOND.
Seated in LUSH CRIB, spruce and smug,
Go on and prosper, worthy PUG!
Tho' long past midnight, who's afraid?
Time, we all know, for slaves was made.
What lad of spirit, or discerning,
Would waste the weary hour in learning,
And not each dryer study cut,
To play a social game at Put?
And wrangle about CHALKS and LEGS,
All Fours and Cribbage, HOLES and PEGS--
Pastimes of such resistless Power,
To cheer and charm the passing hour!
How oft we find in this fair Land,
Folly and vice go hand-in-hand.
Pug, let me whisper in your ear,
You'll buy experience very dear:
In trick, a scholar, apt and willing,
You'll soon be stript of every shilling!
Your adversary knows you're GREEN.
And has a friend behind the scene;
Who takes good care he never loses,
By furnishing what card he chooses.
Play high, play low, 'tis all in vain.
You'll certainly be DONE again!
And mourn, ere long, Misfortune's gripe,
In loss of grog, and cash, and WIPE--
The last of which, by dex'trous pawing,
A Pot-boy Pug is gently drawing;
While you, intent upon your game,
Are all unconscious of the same.
[Illustration]
THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE THIRD.
Fresh from the Lush-crib--roaring, staggering,
Clipping King's English, swearing and swaggering--
Attended by his faithful Mentor,
See Pug all ripe for an adventure.
Already he is holding parley,
Or rather chaffing with a "Charley--"
Who, Tom and Jerry deeds reproving,
Cries, "Gentlemen, push on! keep moving!"
Ever prepar'd to spring his rattle--
The trumpet of the watchman's battle.
See Mentor, bent on mischief, smirking,
On Pug's excited feelings working.
"Why does that 'Charley' make a fuss,
Insulting gentlemen like us,
Thinking to carry all before him--
Tip it him on the nob, and floor him!
Two or three well-plac'd blows, no doubt,
Will serve the saucy rascal out;
And never fear that he can whack ye--
Why, damme, an't I here to back ye--?"
Watchmen, we know, are oft loquacious,
And PUGS, by nature, are PUGnacious.
Sure as our Pug begins the fray,
His backing friend will sneak away,
Leaving him, as the safest plan,
To fight his battle as he can.
What ills on luckless Pug await:
Black eyes, bruis'd body, broken pate--
And, cursing his unlucky plight,
Consign'd to Watchhouse for the night!
[Illustration]
THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE FOURTH.
O, for a Fogo's Muse to sing
The glories of the Boxing Ring--
Where Peer and Prig, and Sweep and Swell,
Mix in the motley group pell-mell:
A scene of frolic, row, and danger,
Where honesty is oft a stranger;
For doubtful are the chances now
Of triumph to the best man's brow.
With equal grief and shame we tell it,
'Tis "How much do ye ax to sell it?"
O, for the fighting days of old,
When men were neither bought nor sold;
When victory was the aim alone,
And fighting crosses all unknown.
Amid the rabble monkey crew,
See PUG, our hero, full in view--
His brain with bruising science stored,
Up to each move upon the board;
How fluently he prates of flooring,
Tapping the claret, fibbing, boring--
Of Chancery-suits and body-battering.
Ogles sew'd up, and ivories chattering.
Eager to bet--a Sharper now
Has got our hopeful Sprig in tow--
Though Mentor, to his pupil true,
Hints pretty plainly its a DO.
"I'll book my man to win for sartin--
Come, three to one on Bill, at starting?"
Though Bill is certainly the strongest,
Perhaps Jack's wind may last the longest.
[Illustration]
THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE FIFTH.
Hurrah for Epsom! Mount your prads,
And start away, like knowing lads,
To join the swarms of smiling faces
That throng delighted to the races.
O, what a scene of joy and jolity,
Of prancing, capering, and frivolity!
Where many a swell whose means are scanty,
Bestrides his batter'd Rosinante--
Which, proud of such illustrious backers,
Hails a short respite from the knackers.
Go it! my heroes! man or monkey
Mounted on blood, or hack, or donkey.
Know many a youth, of spirit gay,
Shall rue the racing of this day,
And, mourning loss of cash and leather,
Curse Oaks and Derby Stakes together.
Where all the springs of fashion gay,
Can Master Pug be absent? No.
Still under Mentor's kind protection,
He presses forward to perfection--
With the top Coves can prate with spirit
Of all their racers and their merit;
Their action, colour, age, and bottom,
Where they were foal'd, and who begot'em:
Can bet and hedge, make sure to win,
And take a well fled'g GREENHORN in.
Mentor, at distance, takes his seat,
Intently gazing on the heat;
Intending wisely, if he can,
To line his purse, and fleece his man.
[Illustration]
THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE SIXTH.
Where are the Dashers of the Land
Who throng'd the Race Course "four-in-hand?"
The splendid trappings--bang-up team--
Have all departed like a dream,
And Britzska, Landau, One-horse Shay,
Are now the order of the day.
See the EILWAGEN skims along,
The wonder of a gazing throng,
Who hail the Royal importation,
A luxury to a lazy nation!--
Here on a sofa you may share
Sweet converse with a favourite fair,
Or snugly when it suits the whim,
Sloth may stretch out the lazy limb--
The curtains of the carriage close,
And sink delighted to repose--
For such enjoyment thanks are due,
O, Princely Cumberland! to you.
Long may you rest your noble head
On this transcendent Carriage-bed!
But to our Hero--Pug, the Swell,
Has done the flats at Epsom well;
And as you see, in tip-toe twig,
Now sports his lady and his gig;
No guardian Mentor now is near
To breathe sage counsel in his ear;
For when a Lady's in the case
Each Mentor's presence must give place.
In truth he needs no aid of friend
To prompt him now his gains to spend.
[Illustration]
THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE SEVENTH.
Ah Pug! tho' fortune now has smil'd,
And mark'd you for a favourite child,
Too many, by those smiles betray'd;
Have prov'd her but a fickle jade;
And like the meteor of the night,
Misleading with a treacherous light.
Irksome the task to trace in verse
The Gamester's course from bad to worse:
That course of vice may long endure,
But still the termination's sure.
What is the upshot of the game?
Ruin--remorse--disgrace--and shame.
Behold our Hero--mark him well,
The inmate of a modern Hell;
Where Croupier every snare hath set,
To catch all fish that come to net;
Tho' of the tribes that sink or swim,
The GOLD and SILVER Fish for him.
Now Pug, call Fortune to your aid,
The colour's black--the Game is made;
Trente-un--Red wins--a hardish smack!
You laid that hundred, Pug, on black;
Don't let that trifle give you trouble,
Try Black once more, and put down double.
Red wins again--Ah sound of dread!
Well now you'll have a run on Red;
Then change the colour if you will--
But doom'd to be unlucky still,
You'll persevere with store diminish'd,
Till YOUR OWN GAME at length is finish'd;
[Illustration]
THE GAMBLER'S PROGRESS--STEP THE EIGHTH.