┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │ [Illustration] OCTOBER. │ ├──┬──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ │ │ Hail! honest Toby, who all grumbling hates, │ │ │ Who quaffs his ale, and cheerful pays his rates; │ │ │ Whose faith is fixed and firm,—in stout October,— │ │ │ Who scorns dissent,—except, from being sober; │ │ │ Who swears the cause is best upheld by drinking, │ │ │ Since he who takes to water, takes to thinking; │ │ │ Who designates small beer a public scandal, │ │ │ And knows no heresy but using the pump handle. │ ├──┼─────────────────────────────────────────────────────┬────────────┤ │D.│ =Great Events and Odd Matters.= │_Prognosti- │ │ │ │fications._ │ ├──┼─────────────────────────────────────────────────────┼────────────┤ │ │ │ │ │ 1│ DIALOGUE. │ Now │ │ │ │ │ │ 2│_Customer_: What can I have, waiter?—_Waiter_: What │ lest, │ │ │ would you like, Sir? │ │ │ │_C._ Can you give me a chop, or a steak?—_W._ No, │ │ │ │ Sir. │ │ │ 3│_C._ Any cold meat?—_W._ No. │peradventure│ │ │_C._ Crust of bread and cheese?—_W._ No. │ │ │ 4│_C._ Why, you've nothing at all in the house, then, │ ♉ ☍ ♉ ♀ │ │ │ it seems?—_W._ Oh! yes we have. │ │ │ │_C._ What?—_W._ AN EXECUTION! │ │ │ 5│ │ │ │ │ │ it should │ │ 6│ │ │ │ │ │ hereby │ │ 7│ │ │ │ │ │seem to the │ │ 8│ │ │ │ │ │undiscerning│ │ 9│A mob of _Johnnies_ lay rough hands on the Spinning │ │ │ │ _Jennies_, 1779. │ │ │ │ │ multitude, │ │10│_Spenser_ died, succeeded by _Coats_. (Query, │ │ │ │ _Romeo_?) │ │ │ │ │ │ │11│ │ ♀ ♃ ⊕ │ │ │ │ │ │12│Day _breaks_. ——Poor fellow! when, and where? │that I have │ │ │ I pity him, I do declare; │ │ │13│ Unlike the surly wight, who said, │ deserted, │ │ │ When rous'd up from his downy bed, │ │ │14│ "What is't to me, if broke or no? │ ♒ ☿ ♊ ♎ │ │ │ He owes _me_ nothing." (_Vide_ JOE.) │ │ │15│ And Mrs. Day,—his loving mate,— │ the │ │ │ 'Twill break her heart, as sure as │ │ │ │ fate. │ │ │16│ Oh, no! she treats it very _light_;— │ Celestial │ │ │ She's run away with Mr. Night. │ │ │17│ Should Mrs. Day, though, meet her │ Science, │ │ │ _sun_, │ │ │ │ Then Mr. Night will be undone; │ │ │18│ For by some magic,—strange to say,— │ ☿ ♑ │ │ │ This _sun_ will turn _Night_ into │ │ │ │ _Day._ │ │ │19│ │ and proved │ │ │ │ │ │20│ │an unworthy │ │ │ │ │ │21│ │ successor │ │ │ │ │ │22│ │ ♎ ♐ ☌ ♀ │ │ │ │ │ │23│ │ of the │ │ │ │ │ │24│ │defunct and │ │ │ │ │ │25│ST. CRISPIN. All _Soles_ Day. _Cobblers'_ Holiday. No│ doughty │ │ │ business done in Downing Street. │ │ │ │ │ │ │26│ │ MOORE, │ │ │ │ │ │27│ │ ☊ ♓ ♑ ♌ │ │ │ │ │ │28│ [Illustration] │ I do here │ │ │ │ present │ │29│ │ │ │ │ │ one │ │30│ │ │ │ │ │ important │ │31│Brewing ends. _Malt_-brun. Sir Matthew _Hale_. │prediction, │ └──┴─────────────────────────────────────────────────────┴────────────┘