Richmond Enquirer

Of late when the Greenland whale ships had set sail,
And the shot at Lord Wellington had hushed in the gale,
A strange dearth of topics began to prevail.
No subject was offered to fashion's discussion,
No touching new stanza, or whimsical passion:
The P——e had exhausted his patterns of dress.
And Lord Byron's fourth Canto was still in the press.
While the world looked and languished in silent ennui,
Some clever soul hit on a famous invention—
'Tis a tube made of brass, pewter, copper or tin,
With a hole at one end of it, where you look in.
And see—gracious heaven! you see such a sight
As no dream e'er dreamt of, 'twould take you all night:
The exquisite figures and colours you can see,
No painter can copy, no poet can fancy;
You see—what not all you've heretofore seen surpass,
You see—some small, gilded, broken pieces of glass.
Need I tell you indeed, that with such preparation,
Sloane's puppy has raised a sensation—
Done either by Bishop, or arch of toys,
Or the Devil himself, e'er made such a noise:
'Tis the favorite plaything of school boy and sage,
Of the baby in arms and the baby of age,
Of the grandam whose sight is at best problematical,
And the soul who expatiates it by the mathematical,
Of the saint who in vain tries to laugh at and mock it.
Yet, ten to one, carries a brace in his pocket.
All are bit by their turn, from the belles who have borne it.
I'm told to the n—ra instead of a telescope.
To the cripple she makes the microscopy cheap."
And hawks them about at "a penny a peep"
Such indeed is the rage for them, church! or church in
You see them about you, and each tit—t ot archin
Finding a sixpence, with transport beside his hope.
Runs to the tinman, and makes a "Kaleidoscope"