Reader! Walk Up at Once (It Will Soon Be Too Late) and Buy at a Perfectly Ruinous Rate a Fable for Critics; Or, Better, (I Like, as a Thing That the Reader's First Fancy May Strike, an Old-Fashioned Title-Page, Such as Presents a Tabular View of the Volum (Paperback)

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1848. Excerpt: ... They're in bloom by the score, 'tis but climbing a fence: There's a poet hard by, who does nothing but fill his Whole garden, from one end to t'other, with lilies; A very good plan, were it not for satiety, One longs for a weed here and there, for variety; Though a weed is no more than a flower in disguise, Which is seen through at once, if love give a man eyes. Now there happened to be among Phoebus's followers, A gentleman, one of the omnivorous swallowers Who bolt every book that comes out of the press, Without the least question of larger or less, Whose stomachs are strong at the expense of their head, --For reading new books is like eating new bread, One can bear it at first, but by gradual steps he Is brought to death's door of a mental dyspepsy. On a previous stage of existence, our Hero Had ridden outside, with the glass below zero; He had been, 'tis a fact you may safely rely on, Of a very old stock a most eminent scion, --A stock all fresh quacks their fierce boluses ply on, Who stretch the new boots Earth's unwilling to try on, Whom humbugs of all shapes and sorts keep their eye on, Whose hair's in the mortar of every new Zion, Who, when whistles are dear, go directly and buy one, Who think Slavery a crime that we must not say fie on, Who hunt, if they e'er hunt at all, with the lion, (Though they hunt lions also, whenever they spy one, ) Who contrive to make every good fortune a wry one, And at last choose the hard bed of honor to die on, Whose pedigree, traced to earth's earliest years, Is longer than anything else but their ears;--In short, he was sent into life with the wrong key, He unlocked the door, and stept forth a poor donkey. Though kicked and abused by his bipedal betters, Yet he filled no mean place in the kingdom of letters; Far happ...