Invented for poor Humanity's sake;
For what can be a greater privation
Than playing Dumby to all creation,
And only looking at conversation—
Great Philosophers talking like Platos,
And members of Parliament moral as Catos,
And your ears as dull as waxy potatoes!
Not to name the mischievous quizzers,
Sharp as knives, but double as scissors,
Who get you to answer quite by guess
Yes for No, and No for Yes.”

("That's very true," says Dame Eleanor S.)

"Try it again! No harm in trying-
I'm sure you'll find it worth your buying,
A little practice-that is all-

And you'll hear a whisper, however small,
Through an Act of Parliament party-wall,—
Every syllable clear as day,

And even what people are going to say—

I would n't tell a lie, I would n't,

But my Trumpets have heard what Solomon's could n't; And as for Scott he promises fine,

But can he warrant his horns like mine

Never to hear what a Lady should n't—

Only a guinea-and can't take less."

("That's very dear," says Dame Eleanor S.)

“Dear!—Oh dear, to call it dear!

Why it isn't a horn you buy, but an ear;

Only think, and you'll find on reflection

You're bargaining, Ma'am, for the Voice of Affection;
For the language of Wisdom, and Virtue, and Truth,
And the sweet little innocent prattle of youth;

Not to mention the striking of clocks

Cackle of hens-crowing of cocks-
Lowing of cow, and bull,.and ox-
Bleating of pretty pastoral flocks-
Murmur of waterfall over the rocks-

Every sound that Echo mocks—

Vocals, fiddles, and musical-box

And zounds! to call such a concert dear!

But I must n't swear with my horn in your ear.
Why in buying that trumpet you buy all those
That Harper, or any trumpeter, blows

At the Queen's Levees or the Lord Mayor's Shows,
At least as far as the music goes,

Including the wonderful lively sound

Of the Guards' key-bugles all the year round
Come-suppose we call it a pound!

Come," said the talkative Man of the Pack,
"Before I put my box on my back,

For this elegant, useful Conductor of Sound,
Come-suppose we call it a pound!

"Only a pound! it's only the price Of hearing a Concert once or twice, It's only the fee

You might give Mr. C.,

And after all not hear his advice,

But common prudence would bid you stump it;
For, not to enlarge,

It's the regular charge

At a Fancy Fair for a penny trumpet.

Lord! what's a pound to the blessing of hearing!" ("A pound's a pound," said Dame Eleanor Spearing.)

"Try it again! no harm in trying!

A pound's a pound there's no denying;

But think what thousands and thousands of pounds

We pay for nothing but hearing sounds:

Sounds of Equity, Justice and Law,
Parliamentary jabber and jaw,
Pious cant and moral saw,

Hocus-pocus, and Nong-tong-paw,
And empty sounds not worth a straw;
Why it costs a guinea, as I'm a sinner,

To hear the sounds at a Public Dinner!
One pound one thrown into the puddle,
To listen to Fiddle, Faddle, and Fuddle!
Not to forget the sounds we buy

From those who sell their sounds so high,
That, unless the Managers pitch it strong,
To get a Signora to warble a song

You must fork out the blunt with a haymaker's prong!

"It's not the thing for me-I know it,

To crack my own Trumpet up and blow it;

But it is the best, and time will show it.

There was Mrs. F.

So very deaf,

That she might have worn a percussion cap,
And been knock'd on the head without hearing it snap,
Well, I sold her a horn, and the very next day
She heard from her husband at Botany Bay!
Come-eighteen shillings-that's very low,
You'll save the money as shillings go,

And I never knew so bad a lot,

By hearing whether they ring or not!
Eighteen shillings! it's worth the price,
Supposing you're delicate-minded and nice,
To have the medical man of your choice,
Instead of the one with the strongest voice-
Who comes and asks you how 's your liver,
And where you ache, and whether
you shiver,
And as to your nerves so apt to quiver,
As if he was hailing a boat on the river!
And then, with a shout, like Pat in a riot,
Tells you to keep yourself perfectly quiet!

"Or a tradesman comes- -as tradesmen will-
Short and crusty about his bill,

Of patience, indeed, a perfect scorner,
And because you're deaf and unable to pay,
Shouts whatever he has to say,

In a vulgar voice that goes over the way,

Down the street and round the corner, Come-speak your mind-it's 'No or Yes'" (“I've half a mind," said Dame Eleanor S.)

"Try it again—no harm in trying,

Of course you hear me, as easy as lying;
No pain at all, like a surgical trick,

To make you squall, and struggle, and kick,
Like Juno, or Rose,

Whose ear undergoes

Such horrid tugs at membrane and gristle,
For being as deaf as yourself to a whistle!

"You may go to surgical chaps if you choose, Who will blow up your tubes like copper flues, Or cut your tonsils right away,

As you

I'd shell out your almonds for Christmas-day; And after all a matter of doubt,

Whether you ever would hear the shout

Of the little blackguards that bawl about,

'There you go with your tonsils out!'

Why I knew a deaf Welshman who came from Glamorgan On purpose to try a surgical spell,

And paid a guinea, and might as well

Have cled a monkey into his organ! For the Auris. only took a mug,

t

And pour'd in his 'r some acoustical drug,
That instead of curing 'eafen'd him rather,
As Hamlet's uncle served Hamlet's father!
That's the way with your surgical gentry'
And happy your luck

If you don't get stuck

Through your liver and lights at a royal entry,
Because you never answer'd the sentry!

Try it again, dear Madam, try it!

Many would sell their beds to buy it.

I warrant you often wake up in the night,
Ready to shake to a jelly with fright,

And up you must get to strike a light,
And down you go, in you know what,
Whether the weather is chilly or not,—
That's the way a cold is got,—

To see if you heard a noise or not!

iike

Why, bless you, a woman with organs
Is hardly safe to step out of doors!
Just fancy a horse that comes full pelt,
But as quiet as if he was 'shod with felt,'
Till he rushes against you with all his force,
And then I needn't describe of course,
While he kicks you about without remorse,
How awkward it is to be groomed by a horse,
Or a bullock comes, as mad as King Lear,
And you never dream that the brute is near,
Till he pokes his horn right into your ear,
Whether you like the thing or lump it,-
And all for want of buying a trumpet!

"I'm not a female to fret and vex,
But if I belonged to the sensitive sex,
Exposed to all sorts of indelicate sounds,
I wouldn't be deaf for a thousand pounds.
Lord! only think of chucking a copper
To Jack or Bob with a timber limb,
Who looks as if he was singing a ymn,
Instead of a song that's ver improper!

Or just suppose in a public place

You see a great fellow a-pulling a face,

yours

With his staring eyes and his mouth like an O,—

And how is a poor deaf lady to know,

The lower orders are up to such games

If he's calling 'Green Peas,' or calling her names?' ("They're tenpence a peck!" said the deafest of Danes.

""Tis strange what very strong advising,

By word of mouth, or advertising,