From the French

Of all the men one meets about,
There's none like Jack--he's everywhere:
At church--park--auction--dinner--rout--
Go when and where you will, he's there.
Try the West End, he's at your back--
Meets you, like Eurus, in the East--
You're call'd upon for "How do, Jack?"
One hundred times a-day, at least.
A friend of his one evening said,
As home he took his pensive way,
"Upon my soul, I fear Jack's dead--
I've seen him but three times to-day!"