EIGHTEENTH CENTURY LITERATURE.

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 346, 25 July 1885, Page 18

EIGHTEENTH CENTURY LITERATURE.

Oh, where are the endless romances Our granmothers used to adore ? The knights with their helmets and lances, Their shields and the favors they wore ? Aud the monks with their magical lore ? They have passed to Oblivion and Nox. They have fled to the shadowy shore — They are all in the Fourpenny Box ! And where the poetical fancies Our fathers rejoiced in of yore ? The lyric's melodious expanses, The Epic's in. cantos a score ? They have been and are not ; no more Shall the shepherds drive silvery flocks, Nor the ladies their languors deplore' They are all in the Fourpenny Box ! And the music? And the songs and the dances ? The tunes that one may not restore ? And the tones where Divinity prances ? And the pamphlets where Heretics roar ? They have ceased to be even a bore — The Divine, and the Sceptic who mocks ; They are < cropped,' they are < foxed ' to the core — They are all in the Fourpenny Box ! EIWOY. Sun beats on them ; tempests downpour On the chests, without covers or locks, Where they lie by the bookseller's door— They are all in the Fourpenny Box. You can get a a supper at the Occidental Cafs after the Theatre is over ; and Eoberfc only charges a " colonial Robert " for lunch. A distinguished Boston divine of unusually solemn and impressive appearance went out to a country town not long ago to lecture. He arrived early in the afternoon, and all the town, of course, spotted him within five minutes as a very great and very saintly man. He went into a drug store, and, in tones that froze the young blood of the clerk behind the counter, said : ' Young — man— do— you — smoke ?' 'V— yes, sir,' said the trembling clerk: < I'm sorry, but I learned the habit young and haven't been able to quit it yet.' ' Then,' said the great divine, without the movement of a muscle or the abatement of a shade of the awful solemnity of his voice ' can you tell me where I can get a good cigar ?.