Itual is to fools and dunces,

As to a camel his back's bunch is.
For doggrel is the only child,
Begotten on the body mild,
Of Dulness tame, a lady fair,

By Impudence-found every where.
Got without thought, born without pains,
The drivelling slime of addled brains;
Possessing all its mother's spirit,
And all its father's want of merit.

This doggrel, then, since it does need,
Not that a man should either read,
Or speak with accent to be borne

By man or beast, at eve or morn,
However wretched or forlorn;

Requiring neither sense nor knowledge,
Whether in or out of college;

Nor virtue, genius, wit, or manners,
Nor ought, that can lift up the banners
To honour, or respect on earth

To any one of mortal birth;

But is, as I have said before,
Of booby-trash the open door;

Can be prepared with much more speed,
Than dowlass, made of hempen-seed.

For first, the threads they must be spun,
And then, I tell you, when that's done,
The cloth, also, it must be woven;
Whence this same truth is fully proven;
Since dowlass needs both men and women
To spin and weave it ;-but, Sirs, no men
Of sense could ever yet be found,
Above, about, or under ground,

Who would themselves so much abandon,
And their own judgments put such brand on;
As to write doggrel-verse ;-which I

With none to help me, except my-
Self, have often-times prepar'd,

1

Long as boobies are so plenty,

And they're a stock will ne'er grow scanty;
While round the sun shall roll the earth,
Block-heads shall be cause of mirth
To all the sons of wit and spirit,
And all that genius love and merit;
And Salmagundi vent his whim-wham
On Turnspit, Blunderbuss, and Flim-flam.
Wherefore, I now make public mention,
That I have, of my own invention,
Large store of doggrel to be sold
To all that feel themselves so bold,
As it to purchase,—for this price,
Which I will set forth in a trice.
For every yard, or foot, or inch,
Of dowlass, I will, on a pinch,
Give an inch, a yard, a foot

Of doggrel;—and some more to boot.
Secondly, as I proposed,

My second thought shall be exposed;
Which is to prove, that dowlass is
Better than doggrel, as I wis;
For dowlass keepeth people warm,
Their bodies fenced out from harm
Of wet, and dry, and rain, and wind,
Whether it does blow behind,

Or before the clothed body;
Whence dowlass is like glass of toddy;
For toddy keeps the inside hot,

And dowlass makes the stomach not
To feel the cold;-and all men know,
Unless they block-heads are, I trow,
That stomach and inside mean the same,
Which cannot be prov'd reasoning lame;
For if you hurt the one or other,

They both will make a grievous pother;
Being just like man and wife,
Who are but one, beyond all strife,

And so continue all their life.

So dowlass, then, is very good,

Or else my head is made of wood.

But doggrel is of no more service
To man, or beast, than is a dervise
To a christian, whom he hates;

As lambs and lions are no mates.

The man, who makes himself inditer
Of doggrel dull, is a vile writer,

Who merits nought but stripes and blows,
Or to lose both ears and nose,

In pillory; or when well bang'd,
Upon a gibbet to be hang'd.

So that I now conclude my letter,
By saying,-dowlass is far better
Than doggrel is—which I've prepar'd
Faster than dowlass by the yard.
Whence, if my character you scan,
With all the keenness that you can,
You'll know for doggrel, that the man
Of all men living is myself,

A wonderful, notorious elf;

At whom men, women, girls, and boys,
Whene'er they see me, make a noise,

}

And loudly shout,-here comes George Gander,
Who, in the paths of sense to wander,
Was never known, but is a pandar.
To dulness, ignorance, and slander ;
Which proves that he's no Salamander,
Nor Seed so sweet of coriander,
Nor Cicero, nor bright Thersander,
Nor Bonaparte, nor Alexander,

But, in truth- a VERY GANDER.

P. S. Before I conclude, I wish, Gentlemen, to ask you one question; namely, why the Salmagundi bears so hard upon the body of my friend Diggory Doggrel, which they attack, and ridicule without measure, and without mercy? I am, once more, Gentlemen,

Your very well wisher and friend
George Gander, A. B.-

In answer to this very grave question of Mr. Gander we offer it, merely, as our opinion, that the reason why the witty and ingenious authors of Salmagundi have so strenuously

waged war upon their antagonist's person, is probably, because they always wish to engage a visible opponent. Now, it cannot be denied, that our great poet's body is certainly much more visible than his mind, which last, to say truth, is not perceptible, even to the most acute and vigilant inspector, so forlorn are its dimensions. Wherefore, as we conclude, the Salmagundi attacked the only thing, appertaining to Diggory Doggrel, A. S. S. which presented a front, or, if you like it better, a rear for an attack.

If this be so;-and we confess that we, at present, can perceive no fallacy in our mode of reasoning ;-perhaps, Mr. Diggory Doggrel may find it consistent with the wisdom and ingenuity, which marks all his movements, and all his conduct, to endeavour to make the authors of Salmagundi literally feel his weight by using his fist, or a bludgeon,-(two very convincing arguments, and as much in vogue among gentlemen and scholars as they are abhorrent from the principles and practice of a ruffian and an assassin)—in order to persuade them, that he is a man of talents, and of learning, and not an ignorant booby, as they, now, seem most firmly to believe. There can be no doubt, that it would be much easier for many men to beat and murder themselves into a reputation for sense and knowledge, than to accomplish the same purpose, by any efforts of their brains, in the way of literary composition, whether in bald, and barren prose, or low, vulgar, contemptible doggrel, which by a most flagrant mis-nomer, has been called poetry.

Before we take leave of Mr. Gander, we beg leave to bring him acquainted with an effusion of poetical genius, at least, equal, in rythm, rhyme, sense, interest, taste, spirit, and learning, to any of the intellectual productions of his friend and brother Diggory Doggrel, ASS. or the, no less, redoubted and redoubtable poet, Mr. Searson.

When the news of General Wolfe's victory and death reached Britain, a country school-master, in the vicinity of London, wrote the following pathetic poem.

"Great General Wolfe, without any fears,
Led on his brave grenadiers.

And what is most miraculous, and particular,
He climbed up rocks, that were perpendicular."

On a different subject, a late master of St. Paul's School, in London, wrote some verses, which we should, indeed, be sorry to put on the same level with any producton of the Eulogist on Wolfe, of Mr. Searson, or of Mr. Diggory Doggrel; because there is an appearance of wit in them, from all semblance of which every composition of Messrs. Doggrel, Searson, and Co. is entirely free.

The subject of the following lines was that of Judith slaying Holofernes.

"When Judith had put Holofernes to bed,

She drew out his falchion, and cut off his head.
She kill'd him, I say, what could she do more?
For she cut off his head, as I told you before."

One word more, at parting, to our worthy friend Gander, who will be so obliging as to inform his brother Diggory Doggrel of the necessity of following our good advice. We request, that all whom it might concern, and more especially, Mess'rs Gander and Doggrel, will each of them, pay particular attention to the following lines, by one Pope, on a certain female. Mutatis Mutandis, the advice of Mr. Pope will fit either or both of you, renowned poets; for instance, substitute the words he for she, his for her, and instead of smock, read shirt, and George Gander, or Diggory Doggrel will be each of them, as well counselled, as was the Lady Mary Wortly Montagu.

"At genius, wit, and sense she—(he)—rails,

And reads Descartes, Malbranche and Locke,

I wish that she-(he)-would pare her-(his)-nails,
And wear a cleaner smock"-(shirt)—

Or, suppose we alter it a little for the benefit of our Columbian poets!-thus ;

1

At sense and decency he rails,

And wallows deep in filth and dirt,
I wish that he would wash his nails,
And wear a cleaner shirt.

2

Decline the trade of taste and wit,

For which he never was design'd;
And take up that for which he's only fit,

Some labour of the body,-not the mind.

EDITORS.