WOMAN'S WISDOM.

One of the Cecil family, minister to Scotland from England, was speaking to Mary, queen of Scots, of the wisdom of his sovereign, queen Elizabeth. Mary stopped him short by saying," Pray, Sir, don't talk to me of the wisdom of a woman; I think I know my own sex pretty well, and can assure you, that the wisest of us all is only a little less a fool than the others."

THE ROYAL LIBRARIAN.

George III., shortly after his accession to the throne, walking one morning into his library, found one of the under librarians asleep in a chair. He stepped up softly to him, and gave him a slight slap on the cheek; the sleeper clapt his hand on the place instantly, and, with his eyes still closed, taking the disturber of his nap for his fellow librarian, whose name was George, exclaimed, "Hang it, George, let me alone, you are always doing one foolish trick or another."

PROLOGUE, FOR A COMPANY OF COMEDIANS, WHO PERFORMED AT WINCHESTER OVER A BUTCHER'S

SHAMBLES.

Whoe'er our stage examines, must excuse
The wondrous shifts of the dramatic Muse;
Then kindly listen, while the prologue rambles
From wit to beef, from Shakspeare to the shambles ;
Divided only by one flight of stairs,

The actor swaggers, and the butcher swears!
Quick the transition when the curtain drops,
From meek Monimia's moans, to mutton chops!
While for Lothario's loss Lavinia cries,
Old women scold, and dealers d-n your eyes!
Here Juliet listens to the gentle lark,
There in harsh chorus hungry bull-dogs bark;
Cleavers and scimitars give blow for blow,
And heroes bleed above, and sheep below!
While magic thunders shake the pit and box,
Rebellows to the roar the stagg'ring ox.
v-horns and trumpets mix their martial tones,
neys and kings, mouthing and marrow-bones;
and sighs, blank verse and blood abound,

And form a tragi-comedy around.
With weeping lovers dying calves complain;
Confusion reigns-chaos is come again!
Hither your steelyards, butchers, bring, to weigh
The pound of flesh Antonio's blood must pay!
Hither your knives, ye Christians clad in blue,
Bring to be whetted by the worthless Jew.

Hard is our lot, who, seldom doom'd to eat, Cast a sheep's-eye on this forbidden meat— Gaze on sirloins, which, ah! we cannot carve, And in the midst of beef, of mutton-starve!

But would ye to our house in crowds repait, Ye gen'rous captains, and ye blooming fair, The fate of Tantalus we should not fear, Nor pine for a repast that is so near; Monarchs no more would supperless remain, Nor hungry queens for cutlets long in vain.

SPEAKING IN TIME.

WARTOS

A buffoon at the court of Francis I. complaise the king that a great lord threatened to murder for uttering some jokes about him. "If he co said Francis," he shall be hanged in five ma after." "I wish," replied the complainant, majesty would hang him five minutes before."

A LONG TEXT.

A clergyman was once going to preach up text of the Samaritan woman, and after reali he said, "Do not wonder, my beloved, that is so long, for it is a woman that speaks."

THE JEW BEGINNING THE WORLD AGAIN. Two criminals, a Christian and a Jew, Who'd been to honest feelings rather callous, Were on a platform once expos'd to view;

Or come, as some folks call it, to the gallows Or, as of late a quainter phrase prevails, To weigh their weight upon the city scales, In dreadful form, the constables and shrieve,

The priest, and ordinary, and crowd attend Till fix'd the noose, and all had taken leave; When the poor trembling Israelite, befriends

feard, by express, from officer of state, gracious pardon quite reverse his fate. iumov'd he seem'd, and to the spot close sticking, Ne'er offers, thro' he's bid, to quit the place, ill in the air the other fellow's kicking; The sheriff thought that some peculiar grace, me Hebrew form of silent, deep devotion, id for a while depriv'd him of his motion. 1 by the sheriff being ask'd aloud, Why not with proper officer he went? answer'd thus, (surprising all the crowd,) With eyes upon the dying Christian bent," only wait awhile pefore I coes,

Mister Catch to puy te tead man's clo'es."

FASHIONABLE ROUTS

AVOIDING A DUN.

reason

Neglected mansion!-for 'tis said,

Whene'er the snow came feath'ring down,
Four barbed steeds, from the Bull's-head,
Carried thy master up to town.
Weep, Hoppergollop!-Lords may moan,
Who stake, in London, their estate
On two small rattling bits of bone,
On little figure, or on great.

Swift whirl the wheels-He's gone-A rose
Remains bebind, whose virgin look,
Unseen, must blush in wintry snows,
Sweet beauteous blossom!-'twas the cook
A bolder far than my weak note,

Maid of the moor, thy charms demand;
Eels might be proud to lose their coat,

If skinn'd by Molly Dumpling's hand. Long had the fair one sat alone,

Had none remain'd save only she ;She by herself had been-if one

Had not been left, for company.

'Twas a tall youth, whose cheek's clear hue
Was ting'd with health and manly toil;
Cabbage he sow'd; and, when it grew,
He always cut it off, to boil.
"Delve, delve the hole!
Oft would he cry,
And prune the tree, and trim the root!
And stick the wig upon the pole,

To scare the sparrows from the fruit."
A small, mute favourite, by day

Follow'd his step; where'er he wheels
His barrow round the garden gay,

A bob-tail cur is at his heels.
Ah, man! the brute creation see!
Thy constancy oft needs the spur!
While lessons of fidelity

Are found in ev'ry bob-tail cur.

Hard toil'd the youth, so fresh and strong,
While Bob-tail in his face would look,

And mark his master troll the song

6

"Sweet Molly Dumpling! Oh, thou cook!"

For thus he sung; while Cupid smil'd-
Pleas'd that the gard'ner own'd his dart,
Which prun'd his passions running wild,
And grafted true-love on his heart.
Maid of the moor! his love return!

True love ne'er tints the cheek with shame :
When gard'ners' hearts, like hot-beds, burn,
A cook may surely feed the flame.
Ah! not averse from love was she,

Though pure as heaven's own snowy flake; Both lov'd: and though a gard'ner he,

He knew not what it was to rake.
Cold blows the blast-the night's obscure;
The mansion's crazy wainscots crack;
No star appear'd,-and all the moor,
Like ev'ry other moor,-was black.
Alone, pale, trembling, near the fire,

The lovely Molly Dumpling sat:

Much did she fear, and much admire

What Thomas Gard'ner could be at.

List'ning, her hand supports her chin;
But, ah! no foot is heard to stir :
He comes not, from the garden, in;
Nor he, nor little bob-tail cur.
They cannot come, sweet maid, to thee;
Flesh, both of cur and man, is grass!
And what's impossible can't be ;

And never, never comes to pass!
She paces through the hall antique,

To call her Thomas from his toil; Opes the huge door; the hinges creakBecause-the hinges wanted oil. Thrice, on the threshold of the hall,

She "Thomas !" cried, with many a sob;
And thrice on Bob-tail did she call,
Exclaiming sweetly "Bob! Bob! Bob!"
Vain maid! a gard'ner's corpse, 'tis said,
In answers can but ill succeed;

And dogs that hear when they are dead,
Are very cunning dogs indeed!

Back through the hall she bent her way;
All, all was solitude around!
The candle shed a feeble ray,

Though a large mould of four to th' pound.
Full closely to the fire she drew;
Adown her cheek a salt tear stole ;
When, lo! a coffin out there flew,
And in her apron burnt a hole!
Spiders their busy death-watch tick'd
A certain sign that fate will frown;
The clumsy kitchen clock, too, click'd,
A certain sign it was not down.

More strong and strong her terrors rose:
Her shadow did the maid appal;
She trembled at her lovely nose,

It look'd so long against the wall.
Up to her chamber damp and cold,
She climb'd lord Hoppergollop's stair:
Three stories high-long, dull, and old,
As great lords' stories often are.

All nature now appear'd to pause;

And "o'er one half the world seem'd dad No "curtain'd sleep" had she-because She had no curtains to her bed.

List'ning she lay;-with iron din

The clock struck twelve; the door flew When Thomas grimly glided in,

With little Bob-tail by his side.

Tall, like the poplar, was his size;
Green, green his waiscoat was, as leck
Red, red as beet-root were his eyes;

Pale, pale, as turnips were his cheeks!
Soon as the spectre she espied,

The fear-struck damsel faintly said, "What would my Thomas?" he replied, "Oh! Molly Dumpling! I am dead. "All in the flower of youth I fell,

Cut off with health's full blossom crow

I was not ill-but in a well

I tumbled backwards, and was drown's.

On some fond breast the parting soul relies--
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away-
With waddling gait, and voice like London cries-
Nor stops for one bad cork his butler's pay.
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen-

For thunder mars small beer and weak discourse-And hurls the vengeance of the laws on gin

To prove, like Hudibras, a man's no horse. But now the clouds in airy tumult fly

Their teeth will be no whiter than before-
While England lives, their fame can never die—
For still new harlequins remain in store.
Forthwith the huge portcullis high updrew-

In shape no bigger than an agate stone-
Whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew-
And boldly fought to save the British throne.
Th' applause of list'ning senates to command-
Let me extol a cat on oysters fed-
His wig all powder, and all snuff his band-

O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed.
Now Night in vestments rob'd of deepest dye-
With new-born Day had gladden'd mortal sight-
To whom Ulysses with a pleasing eye-

With head advanc'd, and pinions stretch'd for flight.

Ah! think, thou favour'd of the powers divine-
On the forefinger of an alderman-
To grace thy manes, and adorn thy shrine-

And pierce aloft in air the soaring swan. Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul !Arm'd with a pudding that might please a dean Scours wild along, disdaining all controul

And murders fops by whom she ne'er was seen. So when a lion shakes his dreadful mane

From low St. James's up to high St. PaulThose stars that grace the wide celestial plainFor very want can never build a wall.'

ALL AT ONCE.

A Greek and a Venetian held a dispute on the advantages of their respective countries, during which

the Greek did not fail to quote the numerous which his country had produced of old. "True" answered the Venetian, you formerly had so ma which accounts for your not having one left."

THE SLEEPY CHANCELLOR.

A wit at Cambridge, in the reign of James 1, 7 ordered to preach at St. Mary's, before the vict cellor and the heads of the university. He tar had observed the drowsiness of the vice-cha and took this piece of scripture for his text, cannot ye watch one hour? At every divar concluded with his text, which, as the vice-ca lor sat near the pulpit, often awaked him. Tha the talk of the whole university, and so nettle vice-chancellor, that he complained to the a of Canterbury, who sent for this scholar to Le defend himself against the crime laid to ba when he gave so many proofs of his est dinary wit, that the archbishop enjoined preach before king James; after some ex** condescended, and coming into the pulpet, James the First and the Sixth, waver Rot

the first king of England, and the sixth of S at first the king was somewhat amazed at but in the end was so well pleased with the that he made him one of the chaplains n After this advancement, the archbishops down to Cambridge to make his recantat vice-chancellor, and to take leave of the un which he accordingly did, and took the latter the verse of his former text, Sleep on now, your rest. Concluding his sermon, he apology to the vice-chancellor, saying, said before (which gave offence) what, or watch one hour? I say now, Sleep on, cad tit rest, and so left the university.

CHOICE POETRY.

A very indifferent poet having read to what he deemed the choice parts of a pre poem, inquired "Which were the passage St approved ?" "Those which you have not y replied the other.