Other editions of book Essays in rhyme, on morals and manners

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Excerpt from Essays in Rhyme, on Morals and MannersIN yonder red-brick mansion, tight and square, Just at the town's commencement, lives' the mayor. Some yards of shining gravel, feue'd with box, Lead to the painted portal - where one knocks There, in the left-hand parlour, all in state.About the PublisherForgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.comThis book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1825 edition. Excerpt: ... prejudice. In yonder red-brick mansion, tight and square, Just at the town's commencement, lives the mayor. Some yards of shining gravel, fenc'd with box, Lead to the painted portal--where one knocks: There, in the left-hand parlour, all in state, Sit he and she, on either side the grate. But though their goods and chattels, sound and new, Bespeak the owners very well to do, His worship's wig and morning suit betray Slight indications of an humbler day. That long, low shop, where still the name appears, Some doors below, they kept for forty years: And there, with various fortunes, smooth and rough, They sold tobacco, coffee, tea, and snuff. There labell'd drawers display their spicy row,--Clove, mace, and nutmeg: from the ceiling low Dangle long twelves and eights, and slender rush, Mix'd with the varied forms of genus brush,-Cask, firkin, bag, and barrel, crowd the floor, And piles of country cheeses guard the door. The frugal dames came in from far and near, To buy their ounces and their quarterns here. Hard was the toil, the profits slow to count, And yet the mole-hill was at last a mount; Those petty gains were hoarded day by day, With little cost, for not a child had they; Till, long proceeding on the saving plan, He found himself a warm, fore-handed man: And being now arrived at life's decline, Both he and she, they formed the bold design, (Although it touch'd their prudence to the quick) To turn their savings into stone and brick. How many an ounce of tea and ounce of snuff, There must have been consumed to make enough! At length, with paint and paper, bright and gay, The box was finish'd, and they went away. But when their faces were no longer seen Amongst the canisters of black and green,--Those well known faces, all the country...