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CAUse of GENUINE son now

A gentleman taking an apartment, said to the landlady, “I assure you, madam, I never left a lodging but my landlady shed tears.” She answered, “I hope it was not, sir, because you went away without paying.”

A Qui Et DEAth.

Whitely the actor having stabbed himself, in the character of Oroonoko, turned himself about two or three times, like a spaniel before the fire, to see where he could lie most comfortably down. Two gentlemen in the stage box, struck by the eccentricity of his manner, could not forbear laughing aloud ; on which Whitely turning to them, cried, “Be quiet, you thieves' can't you let a man die in peace, and be d–d to you!”

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A gentleman possessed a favourite spaniel,
That never treated maid nor man ill. :
This dog, of which we cannot too much say,
Got from his godfather the name of Tray.
After ten years of service just,
Tray, like the race of mortals, songnt the dust—
That is to say, the spaniel died:
A codin then was ordered to be made,
The dog was in the church-yard laid,
While o'er his pale remains the master cried :
Lamenting much his trusty fur-clad friend,
And willing to commemorate his end,
He raised a small blue stone, just after burial,
And weeping, wrote on it this sweet memorial:

Tray's Epitaph. Here rest the relics of a friend below, złlessed with more sense than half the folks I know ; Ford of his ease, and to no parties prone, He damn'd no sect, but calmly gnawed his bone; Performed his functions well in every way— Blush, Christians, if you can, and copy Tray.

The curate of the Huntingtonian band,
Rare breed of gospel-hawks that scour the land,

And fierce on sins their quarry fall,
Those locusts, that would eat up all:
Men who, with new-invented patent eyes,
See heaven and all the angels in the skies; -
As plain as in the box of showman Swiss, -
For little master made, or curious miss,
We see with huge delight the king of France
with all his lords and ladies dance.
This curate heard th’ affair with deep emotion.
And thus exclaimed, with infinite devotion:
“O Lord! O Lord ' O Lord! O Lord : o
Fine doings, these, upon my word!
This, truly, is a very pretty thing
What will become of this most shocking world •
How richly such a rogue deserves to swing,
And then to Satan's hottest flames be hurled !
“Oh by this damned deed how I am hurried,
A dog in Christian ground, indeed, be buried
And have an epitaph forsooth, so civil :
Egado old maids will presently be found
Clapping their dead ram cats in holy ground,
And writing verses on each mousing devil.”
Against such future casualty providing,
The priest set off, like Homer's Neptune, striding.
Vowing to put the culprit in the court :
He found him at the spaniel's humble grave;
Not praying, neither singing of a stave;
And thus began t’ abuse him, not exhort,

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No education could his morals mend. And what, perhaps, sir, you may doubt, Before his lamp of life went out,

He ordered you a legacy, my friend.”

“Did he –poor dog!” the softened priest rejoined, In accents pitiful and kind;— “What! was it Tray ? I'm sorry for poor Trav. Why, truly dogs of such rare merit, Such real nobleness of spirit, Should not like common dogs be put away.

“Well, pray what was it that he gave, Poor fellow, ever he sought the grave? I guess I may put confidence, sir, in ye.” “A piece of gold,” the gentleman replied.— “I’m much obliged to Tray,” the parson cried ; So left God's cause, and pocketed the guinea. cuxin ER LAND's INGRATITUDE. Mr. Cumberland being asked his opinion of Mr. Sheridan's School for Scandal, said, “I am astonished that the town can be so duped I went to see his comedy, and never laughed once from beginning to end.”—This being repeated to Sheridan– “That's d-d ungrateful of him,” cried he, “ for I went to see his tragedy the other night, and did nothing but laugh from beginning to end.”

The PP. Arse of rotatoes. A hur LEsque.

Hail, rare potatoes! hot or cold, all hail!
O Guickly come mine appetite's delight !
Whether in oven's fiery concave clos'd,
By bakers' art delicious thou’rt embrown'd
While rills of purple gravy from the pores
Of mighty beef improve the luscious fare.
Whether the dame of culinary skill
Have rudely scalp'd thee o'er, and to the rage
Of warring elements consign thee deep,
Beneath the cope of air-excluding lid
In humid durance plung’d. Or when with steaks
Of marbled vein, from rump of stall-fed steer
1)isparted late—slic'd in the shallow pan
I view thee kindly strew'd, how joys my heart :
How flash with eager glance my longing eyes:
Or in the tedious eve, when nipping frost

Reigns potent, 'mid the smould'ring embers roast (From subterranean store selected) those

Of amplest size rotund, of native coat
Yet unberest—and if my homely board
Penurious, add but few salubrious grains
Of humble salt, I bless the cheap repast!-
But chiefly come at noon-tide hunger's call,
When from th' ebullient pot your mealy tribe,
With happiest art concoct, profusely pours;
And be the mass with butter's plenteous aid
To rich consistence wrought : nor oh! withhold
The pepper's pungent pow'r, of grateful glow
Beneficent! lest my insatiate claim
Ventose and wat'ry, cause the twinging gripe
Of cholic pang abdominal 1–And here
Need I relate how when for thee I slight
Thy rival roots and poignant sauces rare
Crown'd with exotic name, my humble choice,
Mock'd with rude insult, wakes the latent spark
Of withing's fire—a feeble, glowworm ray
That beams, not burns! Nor feels my injur'd
taste
(Taste undeprav'd by fashion's varying art)
Alone the shaft, but person, fortune, fame,
All, all, invidious scann'd, with sneer malign
And scoff sarcastic.–In the pudding's praise
Let others rant loquacious—I despise
The doughy morsel for my fav'rite food.
Give me but this, ye gods' scornful I
Each celebrated shop (Williams, or Birck,
Or he of Belgic fame—idol supreme
Of city saint in city-hall ador'd 1–
By mortals Hoffman hight)—where brittle puffs
Multangular— with custards, cakes, and creams,
And lucid jellies nodding o'er the brim
Of crystal vase, in pastry pomp combine
To lure the sense. These, these, unmow'd I pass,
While fond I antedate potatoes' charms,
“Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind.”

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wolsey's Twins.

When the historical play of “Henry VIII.” was it rehearsal at Drury-sane theatre, and Mr. John Remble, who then acted Cromwell, in extolling the merits of Wolsey, came to this passage

“ever witness for him

“Those twiss of learning that he rais'd in you,

“Ipswick and Orford." Mr. ixiguuun, who stood by, cried out, “D–n me 1 if I knew that Cardinal Wolsey was married before 1"

*Pir APH ox tit REE INFANT's 1N st. Ives'
CHURCHYA Rd.
Three sweeter babes no man did ever see,
Than God Almighty gave to we ;
They were surprised by ager fits,
And here they lies, as dead as nits.

81 MPLICity AN id Git Atitude. The late Madame, de Namours had charitably brought up a poor child. When the child was about nine years old, she said to her benefactress, “Madame, no one can be more grateful for your charity than I am, and I cannot acknowledge it better than by telling every body I am your daughter; but do not be alarmed, I will not say that I am your lawful child, only your illegitimate daughter.” cum p AN's slii Rt. Curran, while at college, was called before the board for wearing a dirty shirt. “I pleaded,” said he, “inability to wear a clean one, and I told their reverences the story of poor Lord Avonmore, at that time Barry Yelverton. ‘ I wish, mother,” said Barry, “I had eleven shirts.”—“ Eleven 1 Barry, why *** *-* Because, mother, I am of opinion that a gentleman, to be comfortable, ought to have a dozen.’ Poor Barry had but one, and I made the precedent uny justification.” *LAIN It easons. A young Frenchman one day asked the Duke Bernard de Weimar, “How happened it that you |- the Lattle of !” “I will tell. you, sir,” *Plied the duke, coolly, “I thought I should not

win it, and so I lost it.” “But,” added he, turning himself slowly round, “who is the fool that asked me this question t”

And into the cathedral stole the pair.

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Did visit Salisbury's old church so fair:

An Earl of Pembroke was the monarch's guide; Incog, they travelled, shuffling side by side; The verger met them in his silken gown, And humbly bowed his neck with reverence down, Low as an ass to lick a lock of hay : Looking the frightened verger through and through, All with his eye-glass—“Well, sir, who are you ? What, what, sir?—hey, sir!” deigned the king to - say. “I am the verger here, most mighty king: In this cathedral I do every thing ; . Sweep it, an’t please ye, sir, and keep it clean." “Hey verger! verger – you the verger ?-hey ". “Yes, please your glorious majesty, I. be.” The verger answered with the mildest mien. Then turned the king about towards the peer, And winked, and laughed, then whispered in his ear,

“Hey, hey—what, what-fine fellow, 'pon my word:
I'll knight him, knight him, knight him—hey, my
lord *" ,
Then with his glass, as hard as eye could strain,
He kenned the trembling verger o'er again.
“He’s a poor verger, sire,” his lordship cried :
“Sixpence would handsomely requite him."
“Poor verger, venger, hey?” the king replied:
“No, no, then, we won't knight him—no won't
knight him.”
Now to the lofty roof the king did raise -
His glass, and skipped it o'er with sounds of praise!
For thus his marvelling majesty did speak:
“Fine roof this, Master Verger, quite complete;
High—high and lofty too, and clean, and meat:
What, verger, what? inop, mop it once a week?”
“An't please your majesty.” with marvelling chops,
The verger answered, “we have got no mops
In Salisbury that will reach so high.”
“Not mop, no, no, not mop it !” quoth the king
“No sir, our Salisbury mops do no such thing;
They might as well pretend to scrub the sky.”
From Salisbury church to Wilton-house, so grand,
Returned the mighty ruler of the land-
“My lord, you've got fine statues,” said the king.
* A few beneath your royal notice, sir,”
Replied Lord Pembroke—“Stir, my lord, stir, stir;
t’s see them all all, all, all, every thing.
• Who's this?—who's this?—who's this fine fellow
here 2"

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Cleaned stables!—cracked a hon like a flea 1
Killed snakes, great snakes, that in a cradle found

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The M.AN ABOUT Town.

Sir Wisky Whiffle is one of those mincing, tittering, tip-toe tripping animalculae of the times, tha flutter about fine women like flies in a flower garden; as harmless, and as constant, as their shadows, they dangle by the side of beauty, like part of their watch equipage, as glitteriug, as light, and as useless. And the ladies suffer such things about them, as they wear soufileć gauze, not as things of value, merely to make a show with ; they never say any thing to the purpose. but, with an eye-glass in their hands, they stase at ladies, as if they were a jury of astronomers, executing a writ of inquiry upon some beautiful planet. They imagine themselves possessed of the power of a rautesnake, who can, as it is said, fascinate by a look; and that every fine woman must, at first sight, foil into their arms.-" Ha! who's that, Jeck? She's a devihs' fine woman; 'pon honour, an immensely lovely creature t Who is she 2 she must be one of us; she must be come-atable, 'pon honour.” “No, sir," orphed = stranger that overheard him, “she is not conce airble; she's a lady of strict virtue.”—“Is she sp?—I’ll loat her again; ay, ay, she may be a lady of strict virtue, for, now I look at her again, there is somethos devilish ungenteel about her.”

LoRD MANsyield's wic. Court of Requests.-Williams v. Lorrace.

This was a case which, by the parties concerned, was considered of no small importauce; and ***. to the auditors, in the course of its discussion extreno small merriment.

Mr. Williams, who is what is vulgarly called barber, but in more refined language is terrors a perruquier, appeared in this court a short time croand obtained a summons against the defeadant. -->

is clerk to Mr. Reeves, an attorney in Tottenhamcourt-road, calling upon him to attend on a given day, to show cause why he should not pay a debt of 39s, 1144. Mr. Williams, who spoke with a sort of lisping squeak, garrulously addressed the Commissioner: “He had,” he said, “been a hair-dresser, man and boy, sor sixty-eight years. He had served his time in the Temple, where he had the honour of making wigs for some of the greatest men as ever lived—of all professions, and of all .."; barristers, and tommoners—churchmen as well as laymen—illiterate men as well as literate men; and among the latter, he had to rank the immortal Dr. Johnson: but of all the wigs he had ever set comb to, there was none on which he so much prided himself as a full state wig which he had made for Lord Mansfield; it was one of the earliest proofs of his genius: it had excited the warm commendation of his master, and the envy of his brother shopmates; but, above all, it had pleased, nay, even delighted, the noble and learned i. himself. Oh gemmen,” exclaimed Mr. Williams, “if you had kuown what joy I felt when I first saw his noble Lordship on the bench with that wig on his head Î" (in an under tone, but rubbing his hands with ecstacy.) “Upon Iny say so, I was fuddled for three days after!' The Commissioner-What has this wig to do with the defendant's debt Mr. Williams—A great deal that's the very bone of contention. The Commissioner-Doubtless; but you must come to the marrow, if you can, as soon as possible. Mr. Williams-I will. Well, as I was saying— where did I leave off?–Oh ! when I was fuddled. The Commissioner—I hope you have left off that habit, now, my good man. Mr. Williams—Upon my say so, I have, trust me; but as I was a saying, to make a long story short, in course of time I left my master in the Temple, set up for myself, and did a great stroke of business. Ay, I could tell you such alist of customers.

There was

* Commisssioner—Never mind, we don't want your list—go on. Mr. Williams—Well, then, at last I set up in Boswell-court, Queen-square. Lawk me ! what alterations I have seen in that square, surely in my time. I remember when I used to go to shave old Lord— Commissioner—For God's sake, do come to the end of your story. - - Mr. Williams—Well, I will. Where was I? Oh! in Boswell-court—[Commissioner, aside: I wish you were there now.]—Well, then, you must know .. Lord Mansfield (God rest his soul') died, his wig– the very, very wig I made—got back to my old master's shop, and he kept it as a pattern for other judge's wigs; and at last, who should die but Iny master himself. , Ay, its what we must all come to. The Commissioner—Go on, go on man, and come to the end of your story. Mr. Williams— I will, I will. Well, where was I Oh! in my poor master's shop. Well, so when he died, my mistress gave me—for she knew, poor souls how I loved it—this 'dentical wig; and I carried it home with as much delight as if it had been one of my children. Ah, poor little things! they're all gone before me, The Commissioner-Come, if you don't cut this matter short, I must, and send you after them. Mr. Williams–Dearee me! you put me out. Well, as I was a saying, I kept this here wig as the apple of my eye; when, as il -luck would have it, that ere Mr. Lawrence came to my shop, and often asked me to lend it to him to act with in a play —I think he called it Shycock, on Shylock, for he said he was to play the . I long refused, but he over persuaded me, and on an unlucky day I let him have it, and have never (weeping and wiping his little eye with his white apron) seen it since. The Commissioner–And so you have summoned him for the price of this wig 1 Mr. Williams-You have just hit the nail on the head. The Commissioner–Well, have you to say to this?

Mr. Lawrence, what

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