THE DOG BAULKED OF HIS DINNER. 20

Not every guest invited sits at table,
So says my fable.

A man once gave a dinner to his friend :
His friend !—his patron I should rather think,
By all the loads of meat and drink,

And fruits and jellies without end,

Sent home the morning of the feast.

Jowler, his dog, a social beast,
Soon as he smelt the matter out, away
Scampers to old acquaintance Tray,

And, with expressions kind and hearty,

Invites him to the party. "

Tray wanted little pressing to a dinner ;
He was, in truth, a gormandizing sinner,
He lick’d his chops and wage’d his tail ;
“ Dear friend !’’ he eried, “I will not fail :
But what’s your hour P”
“ We dine at four ;
But, if you come an hour too soon,
You ll find there’s something to be done.”

His friend withdrawn, Tray, full of glee,
As blithe as blithe could be,
Skipp’d, danced, and play’d full many an antie,
Like one half frantic, |
Then sober in the sun lay winking,
But could not sleep for thinking.
“Le thought on every dainty dish,
Fried, boil’d, and roast,
rlesh, fowl, and fish,
With tripes and toast,
Tit for a dog to eat ;
And in his fancy made a treat,
Might grace a bill of fare
For my Lord Mayor.

At length, just on the stroke of three,
Forth sallied he ;