all adapted for that branch of dramatic representation. The thing took well, on account of its absurdity, and the execrable acting; and, after a fortnight of crowded houses, Foote returned in good spirits, remarking, that if comedy had become tragedy with him in one respect, tragedy, or something very like it, had become comedy in another.

Duke of Argyll.

John, Duke of Argyll, having been with some ladies in the Opera-house in London, an English squire, puffing, blowing, and sweating, entered the box in which they were seated, with his hunting boots on, and whip in hand. The Duke instantly rose up, and making a low bow, exclaimed, "Sir, I am very much obliged to you." "Oh! why?— how?-for what?" "For not bringing your horse here."

Unacceptable Gratitude.

Capt. (we spare his name) was walking onc day in company with the Marquis of Anglesea, down Piccadilly, when he was accosted by a fellow, half soldier, half beggar, with a most reverential military salute. "God bless your honour! (said the man, whose accent betrayed him to be Irish,) and long life to you." "How do you know me ?" said the captain. "Is it how do I know your honour ?" responded Pat, "good right sure I have, to know the man who saved my life in battle. The captain, highly gratified at this tribute to his valour in such hearing, slid half a crown into his hand, and asked him when? "God bless your honour and long life to you," said the grateful veteran, "sure it was at New-Orleans, when, seeing your honour run away

as hard as your legs could carry you from the Yan. kees, I followed your lead, and ran after you out of the way; whereby, under God, I saved my life. Oh! good luck to your honour, I never will forget it to you."

Amor Patriæ.

A gentleman from the highlands of Scotland, attended by his trusty servant Donald, a native of the wild and mountainous district of Lochaber in Inverness-shire, when travelling through the fertile and delightful plains of Italy, asked Donald what he would do if he possessed an estate there? Donald instantly replied, "Please your honour, I would sell him, and buy an estate in Lochaber!!"

Poor Man of Mutton.

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A leg of mutton, in its last stage of scraggism, is sometimes (in Scotland) devilled, or otherwise prepared for the table, and then bears the familiar title of "a poor man of mutton," of more briefly, poor man." It is related by Dr. Jamieson, in his Dictionary, that a Scotch nobleman entering an inn at London, after a long journey, and being asked by the landlord what he would please to have, answered, with a yawn, "I dare say, I could take a bit of a poor man." "A bit of what?" inquired the landlord. "A bit of a poor man," repeated his Lordship. "The Lord have a care of my poor soul!" cried mine host, and made but one step from the top of the stair to the bottom; nor could he be prevailed upon, till the phrase was explained by the nobleman's valet, to make his appearance again in the parlour.

City Habits.

A gentleman from Boston, on a visit to his friend in the country, speaking of the times, observed that his wife had lately expended fifty dollars for a habit. His friend replied, "Here in the country we don't allow our wives to get into such habits.”

Mutatis Mutandis.

An elderly fat gentleman, in discussing a warm beef-steak at a Highland inn, called to the waiting boy, "Donald, bring me more bread, for I eat a great deal of bread to my steak." Donald answered, with much modest simplicity, "Ay, and please your honour, and ye eat a great deal of steak to your bread."

A Pun whistled.

A young Scotchman visiting London with his father, and being much given to punning, his father often reproved him for it, and expressed a wish that he would endeavour to leave it off entirely, and, if possible, display a little genuine wit. One day, taking a walk together, they passed Newgate, where a man was confined in the stocks, with his head firmly jammed in between two ponderous blocks of wood. An excellent pun, strictly in point, instantly occurred to the young man; but, his father being present, he durst not come out with it; so he contented himself with whistling the tune of " Through the wood, Laddie."

Hugo Arnot.

Hugo Arnot one day, while panting with asthma, was almost deafened by the noise of a brawling fellow who was selling oysters below his window. "The extravagant rascal!" said Hugo, "he has wasted as much breath as would have served me for a month!"

Nothing Remarkable...

"I rise, sir, for information," said a very grave member of a legislative body, who then made no great figure in the business in which he was engaged, but has since far outgrown in political importance both his own and his neighbours' expectations. "I am very glad to hear it," said a bystander, "for no man wants it more.'

Anecdotes of Speaking out in Churches.

A most amusing instance of speaking out in church occurred some years ago, in the parish of The minister, in preaching upon the story of Jonah, uttered a piece of declamatory rhetoric, to something like the following effect:-" And what sort of a fish was it, my brethren, that God had appointed thus to execute his holy will? Was it a shark, my brethren? No-it could not be a shark; for God could never have ventured the person of his beloved Prophet amongst the deadly teeth of that ravenous fish. What fish was it, then, my brethren? Was it a salmon, think ye? Ah, no; that were too narrow lodging. There's no ae salmon i' the deepest pule o' a' Tweed could swallow a man. Besides, ye ken, it's mair natural for men to swallow salmon, than for salmon to swallow men. What, then, was

it? Was it a sea-lion, or a sea-horse, or a sea-dog, or the great rhinoceros? Oh, no! These are not Scripter beasts ava. Ye're as far off't as ever. Which of the monsters of the great deep was it, can ye tell me ?"-Here an old spectacled dame, who had an eleemosynary seat on the pulpit stair, thinking that the minister was in a real perplexity about the name of the fish, interrupted him with, "Hoot, sir, it was a whale, ye ken." "Out upon ye, you graceless wife that you are!" cried the orator, so enraged as almost to fly out of the pulpit at her; "thus to take the word out of the mouth of God's minister !"

Another amusing instance of a similar piece of indecorum occurred at Biggar. It must be well known to our readers, that the more ignorant and zealous congregations of the Scottish church, in common with those belonging to what is called the Secession, entertain a very strong prejudice against the use of written notes in the pulpit. The contempt with which clergymen are sometimes treated on this account, would astonish the liberal minds of their English neighbours. In one case, which has come within our knowledge, this contempt proceeded so far as to occasion a speaking out. The minister of Biggar, in Lanarkshire, whose abilities, whatever they might be, were held in the utmost scorn on account of his reading, was one day concluding his discourse, as an old woman of the true old leaven was leaving the church. He closed the leaves of his sermon, and those of the Bible at the same time, saying, with emphasis, intended as a sort of clencher to his argument, "I add no more." "Because eye canna!" cried the old woman.