... morning mist and evening haze (Unilke this cold grey rime) Seemed woven wvarns of golden air- When I was In my prime. And blackberries-so mawkish now- Were finely flavoured then; And uuts-such reddening clusters ripe I ne'er shall pull again. Nor strawberrles ...

... you'll only do this- Give us but a fair field for our labour. MOrMes. We no charity ask, &c. Douglas Jerrold's Newspaper. BLACKBERRY. ...