So short am I of what Nick Wood hath done,
That, having ended, I have scarce begun;
For I have written but a taste in this,
To show the readers where and what he is.
A, DISAPPOINTMENT.

Sterne's maid servant asked her master leave to go to a public execution. Soon after she set off, she returned all in tears. On her master's asking why she cried, she answered, "Because she had lost her labour, for before she reached the gallows, the man was reprieved."

THE DOUBLE DEALER.

A rector having a horse to dispose of, in order to set him off, turned jockey and mounted him; on which the dealer shook his head and said, "Sir, I ad

KNIFE-GRINDER.

"Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir,
Only last night a-drinking at the Chequers,
This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were
Torn in a scale.
"Constables came up for to take me into
Custody; they took me before the justice;
Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish-
Stocks for a ragrant.
"I should be glad to drink your honour's health sa
A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence
But for my part, I never love to meddle
With policies, sir."

FRIEND OF HUMANITY.

THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE

Wretch whom no sense of wrongs can res

SIR ISAAC NEWTON AND DR. STUKELY. The late Dr. Stukely one day, by appointment, visitd Sir Isaac Newton,when the servant told him he was his study. No one was permitted to disturb him ere; but as it was near dinner-time, the visitor sat own to wait for him. Dinner was brought in-a oiled chicken under a cover. An hour passed, and Isaac did not appear. The doctor ate the w, and covering up the empty dish, bade them dress eir master another. Before that was ready, the eat man came down: he apologized for his delay, ad added, "Give me but leave to take my short aner, and I shall be at your service; I am fatigued d faint." Saying this, he lifted up the cover, and thout any emotion, turned about to Stukely with smile: See," says he, "what we studious peoare: I forgot I had dined."

JAMES THE FIRST.

Among the addresses presented upon the accession James the First, was one from the ancient town of ewsbury, wishing his majesty might reign as long the sun, moon, and stars endured. "Faith mon," I the king to the person who presented it, "if I my son must reign by candle-light."

When the same monarch went to Salisbury, one of active adventurers of those days climbed up the ide of the spire of the cathedral, and at the top e three summersets in honour of his majesty; who g applied to for a reward, gave him a patent, reby every other of his subjects, except the aforeman, and his heirs male, was prohibited from bing steeples for ever.

THE BUSY INDOLENT.

Jack Careless was a man of parts,
Well skill'd in the politer arts,
With judgment read, with humour writ,
Among his friends pass'd for a wit;
But loved his ease more than his meat,
And wonder'd knaves could toil and cheat,
fo expose themselves by being great.
At no levees the suppliant bow'd,
Nor courted for their votes the crowd;

Nor riches nor preferment sought,
Did what he pleased, spoke what he thought;
Content within due bounds to live,
And what he could not spend, to give :
Would whiff his pipe o'er nappy ale,
And joke, and pun, and tell his tale;
Reform the state, lay down the law,
And talk of lords he never saw;
Fight Marlborough's battles o'er again,
And push the French on Blenheim's plain;
Discourse of Paris, Naples, Rome,
Though he had never stirr'd from home:
'Tis true he travell'd with great care
The tour of Europe-in his chair;
Was loath to part without his load,
Or move till morning peep'd abroad.
One day this honest idle rake,
Nor quite asleep nor well awake,
Was lolling in his elbow-chair,
And building castles in the air;
His nipperkin (the port was good)
Half empty at his elbow stood,
When a strange noise offends his ear,
The din increased as it came near,
And in his yard at last he view'd
Of farmers a great multitude,
Who that day, walking of their rounds
Had disagreed about their bounds;
And sure the difference must be wide,
Where each does for himself decide.
Volleys of oaths in vain they swear,
Which burst like guiltless bombs in air;
And, "Thou'rt a knave!" and "Thou'rt an oaf!"
Is bandied round with truth enough.
At length they mutually agree
His worship should be referee,

Which courteous Jack consents to be:
Though for himself he would not budge,
Yet for his friends an arrant drudge;
A conscience of this point he made,
With pleasure readily obey'd,
And shot like lightning to their aid.
The farmers, summon'd to his room,
Bowing with awkward reverence come.

In his great chair his worship sat,
A grave and able magistrate :
Silence proclaim'd, each clack was laid,
And flippant tongues with pain obey'd.
In a short speech he first computes
The vast expense of law disputes,
And everlasting chancery suits.

With zeal and warmth he rallied then
Pack'd juries, sheriffs, talesmen,
And recommended in the close
Good neighbourhood, peace, and repose.
Next weigh'd with care each man's pretence
Perused records, heard evidence ;
Observed, replied, hit every blot,
Unravell'd every Gordian knot;
With great activity and parts
Inform'd their judgments, won their hearts,
And without fees or time mispent
By strength of ale and argument,
Despatch'd them home, friends and content.
Trusty, who at his elbow sat,
And with surprise heard the debate,
Astonish'd, could not but admire
His strange dexterity and fire,

His wise discernment and good sense,
His quickness, ease and eloquence:
"Lord! sir (said he), I can't but chide;
What useful talents do you hide!
In half an hour you have done more
Than Puzzle can in half a score,
With all the practice of the courts,
His cases, precedents, reports."

Jack with a smile replied,
""Tis true,
This may seem odd, my friend, to you:
But give me not more than my due.
No hungry judge nods o'er the laws,
But hastens to decide the cause.
Who hands the oar, and drags the chain,
Will struggle to be free again
So lazy men and indolent,

With cares oppress'd, and business spent,
Exert their utmost powers and skill,
Work hard; for what? why, to sit still.

A cobbler there was, and he lived in a stall,
Which serv'd him for parlour, for kitchen, and bill,
No coin in his pocket, no care in his pate,
No ambition had he, nor duns at his gate:

Derry down, down, down, derry down Contented he work'd, and thought himself happy, If at night he could purchase a jug of brows How he'd laugh then, and whistle, and sm sweet!

Saying just to a hair I have made both ends meet -
Derry down, down, &c.

But love the disturber of high and of low.
That shoots at the peasant as well as the beaa:
He shot the poor cobbler quite through the
I wish he had hit some more ignoble part:
Derry down, down, &c.

It was from a cellar this archer did play,
Where a buxom young damsel continually lay:
Her eyes shone so bright when she rose ev'ry in
That she shot the poor cobbler quite over the way
Derry down, down, &c.

He sung her love-songs as he sat at his work,
But she was as hard as a Jew or a Turk;

master, and, provided his servants humour his peculiarities, flatter his vanity a little now and then, and do not peculate grossly on him before his face, they may manage him to perfection. Every thing that lives on him seems to thrive and grow fat. His house servants are well paid, and pampered, and have little to do. His horses are sleek and lazy, and prance slowly before his state carriage; and his house dogs sleep quietly about the door, and will hardly bark at a house-breaker,

John, with all his odd humours and obstinate prejudices, is a sterling-hearted old blade. He may not be so wonderfully fine a fellow as he thinks himself, but he is at least twice as good as his neighbours represent him. His virtues are all his own; all plain, homebred and unaffected. His very faults smack of the raciness of his good qualities. His extravagance savours of his generosity; his quarrelsomeness of his courage; his credulity of his open faith; his vanity of his pride; and his bluntness of his sincerity. They are all the redundancies of rich and liberal character. He is like his own oak; rough without, but sound and solid within; whose bark abounds with excrescences in proportion to the growth and grandeur of the timber; and whose branches make a fearful groaning and murmuring in the least storm, from their very magnitude and luxuriance.

WASHINGTON IRVING.

THE COURT OF ALDERMEN AT FISHMONGERS' HALL.

Is that dace or perch?
Said Alderman Birch;

I take it for herring,

Said Alderman Perring. This jack's very good,

Said Alderman Wood;

But its bones might a man slay, Said Alderman Ansley.

I'll butter what I get,

Said Alderman Heygate, Give me some stew'd carp, Said Alderman Thorp.

The roe's dry as pith,

Said Aldermen Smith,

Don't cut so far down,
Said Alderman Brown;
But nearer the fin,
Said Alderman Glyn.
I've finish'd, i'faith man,
Said Alderman Waithman
And I too, i'fatking,

Said Alderman Atkins.
They've crimp'd this cod drolly,
Said Alderman Scholey;
'Tis bruised at the ridges,
Said Alderman Brydges.
Was it caught in a drag? Nay,
Said Alderman Magnay.
'Twas brought by two men,

Said Alderman Venables: Yes, in a box,

Said Alderman Cox. They care not how fur 'tis,

Said Alderman Curtis. From air kept, and from sun, Said Alderman Thompson; Pack'd neatly in straw,

Said Alderman Shaw : In ice got from Gunter, Said Alderman Hunter. This ketchup is sour,

Said Alderman Flower; Then steep it in claret,

Said Alderman Garret.