I believe there is no passion more prevalent in the human breast than
the wish that our memory should be held in remembrance. I shudder at the
thought lest my name should be branded with infamy, when I lie
mouldering in the dust, as I know well that the tongue of malice is ever
loud against the failings of the unfortunate. When, however, my
character is insulted, and my poor reputation attacked, extenuate, I
beseech you, the enormity of my crime, by relating the hardships of my
sufferings. Tell to the giddy and affluent, that, strangers to the
severity of want, they know not the pain of withstanding the almost
irresistible calls of nature. The poor will, I trust, commiserate my
misfortunes, and shed a sympathetic tear at the mournful tale of my
miserable fate. I can say no more. Heaven have mercy on us all!
Adieu for ever. J. LEE.
* * * * *
PARTING FOR THE POLE.
_He._--Now weep not Poll because I go,
There's no need, I declare,
For when among the Esquimaux,
I've too much blubber there.
Women mis-doubt a sailor's word,
We don't deserve the wipe;
For when they pipe us all aboard,
Aboard we all do pipe.
We've rocks, when all our tears are past,
The sailor's heart to shock,
_She.
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