Memorabilia Of Last Week.

MONDAY, MARCH 13, 1826.     The Budget--quite charming and witty--no hearing,     For plaudits and laughs, the good things that were in it;--     Great comfort to find, tho' the speech isn't cheering,         That all its gay auditors were every minute.     What, still more prosperity!--mercy upon us,         "This boy'll be the death of me"--oft as, already,     Such smooth Budgeteers have genteelly undone us,         For Ruin made easy there's no one like Freddy.     TUESDAY.     Much grave apprehension exprest by the Peers,         Lest--calling to life the old Peachums and Lockitts--     The large stock of gold we're to have in three years,         Should all find its way into highwaymen's pockets![1]     WEDNESDAY.     Little doing--for sacred, oh Wednesday, thou art         To the seven-o'-clock joys of full many a table--     When the Members all meet, to make much of that part,         With which they so rashly fell out in the Fable.     It appeared, tho', to-night, that--as church-wardens yearly,         Eat up a small baby--those cormorant sinners.     The Bankrupt Commissioners, bolt very nearly         A moderate-sized bankrupt, tout chaud, for their dinners![2]     Nota bene--a rumor to-day, in the city,     "Mr. Robinson just has resigned"--what a pity!     The Bulls and the Bears all fell a sobbing,     When they heard of the fate of poor Cock Robin:     While thus, to the nursery tune, so pretty,     A murmuring Stock-dove breathed her ditty:--     Alas, poor Robin, he crowed as long         And as sweet as a prosperous Cock could crow;     But his note was small and the gold-finch's song         Was a pitch too high for Robin to go.                     Who'll make his shroud?     "I," said the Bank, "tho' he played me a prank,         "While I have a rag, poor Rob shall be rolled in't,     "With many a pound I'll paper him round,         "Like a plump rouleau--without the gold in it."