New muffin-men from lamp to lamp, With careless glance I scan; For none can ever raze thy stamp, Oh John, thou muffin-man!
Thou standest snatch'd from time and storm, A statue of the soul; And round thy carved and goblin form, Past days--past days unroll.
We will not part--Affection dim This song shall help to fan; And Memory, firmer bound to him, Shall keep her Muffin-man.
"Who has let loose my tiger?" demanded Sir Pimpleton Pettibones of his butler, whom he had summoned to the breakfast parlour by the sound of the bell in a manner that indicated great impatience. "Who has dared to let him loose? I locked him up last night for robbing the larder, and this morning he is missing; where is he?"
The butler obsequiously bowed. "Extremely sorry, Sir Pimpleton; but really, Sir Pimpleton, I am ignorant and innocent of the whole affair."
"Somebody must have let him out," responded the irascible baronet, "and I shall be too late for the meet. Let search be instantly made--such a tiger as that is not to be caught every day."
The butler bowed and withdrew; whilst his master, arrayed in a scarlet hunting-coat, sat down to his repast, venting imprecations upon the tiger, whom he declared it was his determination to catch before he should accomplish further mischief. This happened at a beautiful mansion in Kent, whither Sir Pimpleton had gone down for the hunting season, taking his tiger (who was a great favourite) with him. Whilst the search was still in progress, word was brought to the baronet that the "creature" had been seen early that morning in the stable-yard, and a beautiful swift-footed pony was missing, which--as the tiger had shown great partiality to horse-flesh--it was supposed he had made away with.
"Hillio--hillio!--quick--saddle every horse in the stables," shouted the baronet, "we'll scour the country--the game is up--hark forward--hark forward!--yoicks, tally ho!" and away he went with grooms and keepers down to the stalls, where he himself saddled his best hunter, and in a few minutes he was flying away across the park, with a long straggling tail like a comet after him, towards the village.
"Have you seen my tiger?" demanded the baronet, reining up his gallant steed in front of the Pettibones Arms, and addressing the landlord--a red, platter-faced man of some seventeen stone; "have you seen him? he broke cover and stole away this morning--he must be prowling somewhere about--have you seen him?"