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A TALE FOR THE TIMES.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

One morn - O fatal morn! - within

My room, expressing many a wish I

Had n't imbibed that drop too much,

Evidenced by the telltale fish-eye,

Reflecting what a fool I'd been, -

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I heard a knock and cried, "Come in!"

A portly man, of middle age, -

Tom Tozer's father. - Heaven defend us! -

I begged he would excuse the room,

Also my stockings and suspenders.

An armchair? Thanks, but stand he'd rather;

A human ramrod Tozer's father!

He had not found his offspring in;

(What luck, he had not found him out!)

He would remain here if I pleased;

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