I live within _rules_,
And am subject to observation.

But come to my arms, Mary;
Let no dread alarms, Mary,
In our present happiness warp us!
I've not the least doubt
Of soon getting out,
By a writ of _habeas corpus_.

Away with despair, Mary;
Let us cast in the air, Mary,
His dark and gloomy fetters.
Why _should_ we be rack'd,
When we think of the Act
For relieving Insolvent Debtors.

* * * * *


A MAYOR'S NEST.

Our friend the Sir Peter Laureate wishes to know whether the work upon
"Horal Surgery" is not a new-invented description of almanack, as it is
announced as

[Illustration: CURTIS ON THE EAR[1]]

[1] _Qy_. Year.--Printer's Devil.