we shall soon find that out. And was there nobody to fetch a midwife but you? W. No; my neighbour lay ill himselfB. What! did he want a midwife too? (a loud laugh), W. He lay ill of a fever; and so I went to serve him. B. No doubt, you are a very serviceable fellow in your way. But pray, now, after you had fetched the midwife, where did you go? W. I went to call upon a friend B. Hold, what time in the day was this? Yes, sir; it was a fine summer evening. B. What! is it always day-light in a summer evening? W. I believe so—(smiling). B. No laughing, sir, if you please; this is too serious a matter for levity. What did you do when you went to call upon a friend? W. He asked me to take a walk; and when we were walking, we heard a great noise B. And where was this? W. In the street. B. Pray attend, sir,-I don't ask you whether it was in the street-I ask you what street? W. I don't know the name of the street, but it turned down from W. Him at the bar, there; I know him very well. B. You know him? how came you to know him? W. We worked journey-work together once; and I remember him very well. B. So! your memory returns: you can't tell the name of the street, but you know the name of the public-house, and you know the prisoner at the bar. You are a very pretty fellow! and pray what was the prisoner doing? W. When I saw him, he was B. When you saw him! did I ask you whai he was doing when you did not see him? W. I understood he had been fighting. B. Give us none of your understanding, tell B. Now, sir, upon your oath-do you say you what you saw. don't know the name of the street? W. No, I don't. B. Did you never hear it? W. I may have heard it, but I can't say remember it? W. He was drinking some Hollands and water. B. Are you sure it was Hollands and water? W. Yes; he asked me to drink with him, ars II just put it to my lips. B. Do you always forget what you have heard? W. I don't know that I ever heard it; but I may have heard it, and forgot it. B. Well, sir, perhaps we may fall upon a way to make you remember it. W. I don't know, sir; I would tell it if I knew it. B. Oh! to be sure you would; you are remarkably communicative. Well, you heard a noise, and I suppose you went to see it too. B. No doubt you did, and I dare say did not take it soon from them. But now, sir, recollec you are upon oath-look at the jury, sir-upca your oath, will you aver that it was Hollands are water? W. Yes, it was. B. B. What; was it not plain gin? W. No; the landlord said it was Hollands, Oh! now we shall come to the point.-The landlord said! Do you believe every thing the landlord of the Cock and Bottle says W. I heard there had been a fight, killed; and I said, "Oh! Robert, I hope you B. Gem'men of the jury, you'll please to attend to this; he positively swears he saw nothing of the fight. Pray, sir, how was it that you saw nothing of the fight? W. Because it was over before I entered the house, as I said before. bave not done this:" and he shook his head.- B. No repetitions, friend.-Was there any B. Shook his head; and what did you under-fighting after you entered? stand by that? W. Sir! W. No, all was quiet. B. Quiet! you just now said, you heard a noise B. I say, what did you understand by his shak--you and your precious friend. ing his head? W. He said nothing. W. Yes, we heard a noise B. Speak up, can't you? and don't hesitate so. W. The noise was from the people crying and lamenting B. Don't look to me-look to the jury—well, B. Said nothing! I don't ask you what he said crying and lamenting- W. What did I say? B. 'Don't repeat my words, fellow; but come W. Crying and lamenting that it happened; and all blaming the dead man. B. Blaming the dead man! why, I should have thought him the most quiet of the whole-(another laugh) But what did they blame him for? W. Because he struck the prisoner several without any cause. W. There had been a fight, as I said before-times There had been a fight between him and Speak up his lordship don't hear youyou raise your voice? There had been a fight between him and prisoner Stop there-Pray, sir, when did this fight I can't tell exactly; it might be an hour And so he might, if the fight had been a thefore, that was not what I asked you. you see the fight? No-it was over before we came in. B. W Did you see him strike the prisoner? B. We don't ask you what you was told-What did you see? W. I saw no more than I have fold you. B. Then why do you come here to tell us what you heard? W I only wanted to give the reason why the company blamed the deceased. B. Oh! we have nothing to do with your reasons or theirs either. W. No, sir, I don't say you have. B. Now, sir, remember you are upon cath-you set out with fetching a midwife; I presume you now went for an undertaker? W. No, I did not. B. No! that is surprising; such a friendly man as you! I wonder the prisoner did not employ you. W. No, I went away soon after. W. I hope I have done no harm-I have spoken like an honest man-I don't know any thing more of the matter. B. Nay, I shan't trouble you farther-(witness retires, but is called again). Pray, sir, what did the prisoner drink his Hollands and water out of? W. A pint tumbler. MUSICAL POLITICS. Dr. Wise, the musician, being requested to sub scribe his name to a petition against an expected prorogation of Parliament in the reign of Charle II., answered, "No, gentlemen, it is not my be siness to meddle with state-affairs; but I'll set tune to it, if you please." PENNANT'S TOUR THROUGH CHESTER. Pennant had a singular antipathy to a wis which, however, he could suppress till reaso yielded to wine, but when this was the case, « went the wig next him into the fire. Dining osc B. A pint tumbler! what! a rummer? pint. B. Are you sure it holds a pint? W. I believe so. B. Ay, when it is full, I suppose.-You may go your ways, John Tomkins.-A pretty hopeful fellow that. (Aside). Aftr Dow Pennant became half-seas over; another friend company, however, had placed himself betwee Pennant and the wig, to prevent mischief. much patience, and many a wistful look, Pensa started up, seized the wig, and threw it on burning coals. It was in flames in a moment, well as the officer, who ran to his sword. ON THE STATUE OF GEORGE II. ON THE TOP stairs ran Pennant, and the officer after his OF THE SPIKE OF BLOOMSBURY CHURCH. through all the streets of Chester; but Penna When Harry the Eighth left the Pope in the lurch, from his superior knowledge of topography. His subjects all styl'd him the head of the church; caped. This was whimsically enough calle But George's good subjects, the Bloomsbury people, Pennant's tour through Chester. Instead of the church made him head of the steeple. FRUITS OF WEDLOCK. He that hath a handsome wife, by other men is thought happy; 'tis a pleasure to look upon her, and be in her company; but the husband is cloyed with her. We are never contented with what we have. A man that will have a wife should be at the charge of her trinkets, and pay all the scores she sits upon them. He that will keep a monkey should pay for the glasses he breaks. Selden's Table Talk. AVARICE. Ten thousand pounds Avarus had before, PIETY AND PLEASURE. Charles the Second had on the warming pass his mistresses beds this inscription: "Serve Ga and live for ever." ON FOOTE'S DEATH. Foote from his earthly stage, alas! is hurl'd; PATIENCE AND INTELLECT. When Horne Tooke was called before the missioners to give an account of the particulars his income, having answered a question that asked, one of the wise men said peevishly, that did not understand his answer. “Theu," Tooke, as you have not half the understanding another man, you ought at least to have doubis patience," ANCESTRY. THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. Sir Thomas Overbury says, " that the man who has not any thing to boast of but his illustrious ancestors, is like a potatoe-the only good belonging to him is under ground." TRIP TO PARIS. Our party consists, in a neat Calais job, randy, Like an hour-glass, exceedingly small in the waist: With heads, so immoveably stuck in shirt-collars, And goes now to Paris to study French dishes, le braise, petits patés, and-what d'ye call that, As we pass it, myself, and some comrades I've got, what. After dreaming some hours of the land of Cockaigne, That Elysium of all that is friand and nice, And the skaiters in winter show off on cream- no doubt of it Almost as tight as some lads who go out of it. "hold up The mirror to nature"-so bright you could sup draws On the tailor, who suffers, a martyr's applause!- [out And which Dad, by the by, that legitimate stickler, The coffee's ne'er-failing and glorious appendix, breeches, Old dustmen with swinging great opera-hats, And shoe-blacks reclining by statues in niches, There never was seen such a race of Jac Sprats! (If books had but such, my old Grecian, depend | What with captains in new jockey-boots and sil on't, [on't); I'd swallow even W-tk-ns', for sake of the end A neat glass of parfait-amour, which one sips, Just as if bottled-velvet tipp'd over one's lips! This repast being ended, and paid for—(how odd! Till a man's us'd to paying, there's something so queer in't, The sun now well out, and the girls all abroad, And the world enough air'd for us, Nobs, to appear in't, We lounge up the Boulevards, where-oh, Dick, the phyzzes, The turn-outs, we meet-what a nation of quizzes! A fine ribbon and cross in his best button-hole; Inflicts without ev'n a court-martial on hundreds. Fronde. They'd club for old B-m-1, from Calais, to dress That you'd swear 'twas the plan of this head- To leave there behind them a snug little place WATER-GRUEL AND ROAST-BEEF. THE PROGRESS OF MATRIMONY, And called her dearest kitten. A MATCH FOR THE DEVIL. "Two gossipping women," says the old prøver 66 are a match for the devil," as the follow story will, in some degree, explain and cont the saying Old Nick, or, as he is vulgarly termed, Some mummers by trade, and the rest amateurs-'Devil, sometimes, it is said, amuses himself & |