Scribbleomania; Or, The Printer's Devil's Polichronicon

Since I feel that with scribes nought on earth can so

grieve 'em,

As thus in a darkness Cimmerian to leave 'em ;

A noted shop for BOOTS and SHOES,
You'll find by Soho Square:-

Perhaps no workman in the Trade

Will parallel their wear.

II.

In substance, texture, solid worth,

With no common art combined;

Search Oxford Street from end to end,

Their match I query if you'll find.

III.

I do not deal in common stuff,

Nor live by false deceit ;

I'd sooner lose my cash than name,

And to be call'd a Cheat!

IV.

In OXFORD STREET, at 4 and 1,

And please to add 9 more,

You there will see a pair of Boots

As ne'er was seen before.

My strain thus I terminate, trusting their fury
To Nick will not hurl me without judge or jury:

The Battle-Boots,-the Stage-Boots,

And Boots to walk and ride in,—

I strive all others to excel,

There lays my greatest pride in.

VI.

For noble legs, and gentle legs,

And legs of all dimensions,

A single pair will best shew proof

Of S. SMITH's just pretensions.

BLACKING.-A Complete Victory obtained over all Blacking Makers!!!-The brilliant WELLINGTON! which far out-rivals all other that was ever offered to the Public! and there never was such a bright polish given to the world, as that produced by this incomparable Blacking. It is not only waterproof, but also bullet proof.-It has likewise a tendency to brighten the UNDERSTANDINGS of men.

Take Notice. This choice Recipe was found among other valuable papers at the fall of St. Sebastian, and this wonderful Composition is now offered to the Public, in Pint Bottles 1s. 6d. each; and to the Navy, and Army, Duty Free.-Warranted full to the bung, and to keep in all climates.-To be had only at T. COLE's Repository, No. 14, Broad Street, Portsmouth.

Their praise is my due, not their censure I swear,
By silence the lash of correction I spare ;
Yet brief let me be, since 'tis order'd by fate,

I calmly must welcome the rancour of hate;
Since rather than pander-like cringe for applause,
I wou'd brave persecution in rectitude's cause:
My motto concise is-" That truth knows no fear,"
While praise earn'd without it is purchas'd too dear.

The Don Cossacks.

When these heroes arrived in town, and were apprised of our liberal subscriptions for the relief of the suffering Russians, their iron countenances were bedewed with tears of gratitude. Observing a number of persons crowding into No. 9, Charing Cross, and being informed that it arose from the eagerness of the public to secure their fortunes in the state lottery, they instantly sent for two tickets, resolving to add their prizes to the above-mentioned subscriptions. When told that every ticket would be drawn a prize on the 6th of May, they exclaimed-Hurrah! Bish for ever!!