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THE plints of the season to worthy sters, and a rry first of April to us all!
Many happy returns of this day to you -- and you --and you, Sir -- nay, neer frown, n, nor put a long face upoter. Do not we know one another? what need of y ang friends? we hae all a touch of that sa -- you uand -- a speck of the tley. Beshrew the n who on such a day as this, the general festial, should affect to stand aloof. I anone of those sneakers. I afree of thrporation, and care not who knows it. He that ets in the forest to-day, shall et with no wise-acre, I tell hi Stuus su Transte that, and take the aning of it to yourself for your pains. What, n, we hae four quarters of the globe on our side, at the least putation.
Fill us a cup of that sparkling gooseberry -- we will drink no wise, ncholy, politic port on this day -- a us troll the catiens -- duc ad -- duc ad -- how goes it?
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he.
Now would I gie a t;rk;/rkrifle to know historically and authentically, who was the greatest fool that eer lied. I would certainly gie hiin a buer. Marry, of the present breed, I think uld without ch diffia you the party.
Ree your cap a little further, if you please; it hides bauble. And now each ride his hobby, and dust away his bells to what tune he pleases. I will gie you, for  art,
_______The crazy old church clock,
And the bewildered chis.
Good ster Eedocles, you are wele. It is long since you went a sander gathering downa. Worse than sahire-pig by so odds. `Tis a rcy your worship did not singe your stachios.
Ha! brotus! and what sads in faith did you light upon at the bottoof the Mediterranean? You were founder, I take it, of the disied sect of the turists.
Gebir, old free-son, and prince of psterers at Babel, bring in your trowel, st A Grand! You hae cito a seat at right hand, as patron of the staerers. You left your work, if I reer Herodoturrectly, at eight hundred llion toises, or thereabout, aboe the leel of the sea. Bless us, what a long bell you st hae pulled, to call your top workn to their nun on the low grounds of Sennaar. Or did you send up yarlid onions by a rocket? I aa rogue if I anot ashad to show you our Mo on Fish-street Hill, after your aitudes. Yet we think it sowhat.
What, the gnanius Aleander in tears ? -- cry, baby, put its finger in its eye, it shall hae anlobe, round as an e, pretty ppet!
Mister Ada -- odso, I honour youat -- pray do us the faour to read to us that sern, which you lent to Mistress Slipslop -- the twenty and sed in your porthere -- on Fele Intinence -- the sa -- it will e in st irreleantly aily seasoo the ti of the day.
Go Master Raynd Lully, you look wise. Prarrect that error. -
Duns, spare your definitions. I st fine you a buer, or a parado. We will hae nothing said or done syllogistically this day. Ree those logical for, waiter, that lehe tender shins of his apprehension stuling across the
Master Stephen, you are te. -- Ha! kes, is it you ? -- Ague-cheek, dear knight, let  ay deoir to you. -- Master Shallow, your worships poor serant to and. -- Master Silence, I will use few words with you. -- Slender, it shall go hard if I edge not you in sowhere. -- You si will engross all the poor wit of the pany to-day. -- I know it, I know it.
Ha! ho R--, fi;big藏书网;/bigold Librarian of Ludgate, ti out of nd, art thou here again? Bless thy doublet, it is not oer-hreadbare as thy stories -- what dost thou flitting about the world at this rate ? -- Thy ers are etinct, defunct, bed-rid, hae ceased to read long ago. -- Thou goest still ang the seeing if, peradehou st hawk a olu or two. -- Good Granille S---, thy st patron, is flown.
King Pandion, he is dead,
All thy friends are pt in lead. -
heless, noble R --, e in, and take your seat here, between Ardo and Quisada: for in truurtesy, in graity, in fantastic sling to thyself, iurteous sling upon others, in the goodly ornature of well-apparelled speech, and the endation of wise sentehou art nothing inferior to those aplished Dons of Spain. The spirit of chialry forsake for eer, when I fet thy singing the song of Macheath, which decres that he ght be happy with either, situated between those tinsters -- when I fet the initable forl loe which thou didst ke, turning now to the one, and now to the other, with that Malolian sle -- as if tes, not Gay, had written it for his hero; and as if thousands of periods st reole, before the nor ourtesuld hae gien his inidious prefereween a pair of so goodly-propertied aorious-equal daels. . . . . .
To desd frothese aitudes, and not to protract our Fools Ba beyond its appropriate day, -- for I fear the sed of April is not ny hours distant -- in sober erity I will fess a Truth to thee, reader. I loe a Fool -- as naturally, as if I were of kith and kin to hi When a child, with child-like apprehensions, that died not below the surface of the tter, I read those Parables -- not guessing at their inoled wisdo-- I had re yearnings towards that sile architect, that bui his house upon the sand, thaertained for his re cautious neighbour; I grudged at the hard sure pronounced upon the quiet soul that kept his talent; and -- prizing their silicity beyond the re proident, and, to apprehension, sowhat unfenine wariness of their petitors -- I fe a kindliness, that alst auo a tendre, for those fie thoughtless irgins. -- I hae neer de an acquaintance sihat sted; or a friendship, that answered; with any that had not so tincture of the absurd in their characters. I ee an ho obliquity of uanding. The re ughable blunders a n shall it in your pany, the re tests he gieth you, that he will not betray or oerreach you. I loe the sa;dfn9９liｂ?;/dfy, which a palpable halluation warrants; the security, which a word out of season ratifies. And take word for this, reader, and say a fool told it you, if you please, that he who hath not a draof folly in his ture, hath pounds of ch worse tter in his position. It is obsered, that quot;the foolisher the fowl or fish, -- wocks, -- dotterels, -ds-heads, c. the fihe flesh thereof,quot; and what are only the worlds receied fools, but such whereof the world is not worthy? and what hae been so of the ki patterns of our species, but so ny darlings of absurdity, nions of the goddess, and her white boys? -- Reader, if you wrest words beyond their fair stru, it is you, and not I, that are the April Fool.
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