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I remember, I remember,
From that sad and solemn day,
Never more in dark December
Did I venture out to play.
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And the moral which they taught, I
Well remember; thus they said-
'Little Boys, when they are naughty,
Must be whipped and sent to bed!'
POOR UNCLE JOHN!
'After life's fitful fever he sleeps well,'
in the old family vault in Denton chancel-and dear Aunt Fanny too!-the latter also 'loo'd me weel,' as the Scotch song has it, -and since, at this moment, I am in a most soft and sentimental
humour-(—whisky toddy should ever be made by pouring the boiling fluid-hotter if possible-upon the thinnest lemon-peel,-and then-but everybody knows what then-') I dedicate the following True Ilistory to my beloved
