MR. CURRAN AND THE PEASANT.

Mr. Curran, in some way or other, generally contrived to throw witnesses off their centre, and he took

CALEB CALLOUT'S ANNOTATIONS ON SHAKSPEARE. I went to the playhouse as other folks do, And I heard and I saw such a hubbub baboo: There was fighting, and screeching-but this here my care they seldom should recover it. My lard-my

song

Shall tell you the story-the short and the long-
It was Richard the Third that I saw, you must know,
But O dear! it was such a tragical show-

They stuck men and poor babes-but Richmond so
tall,

Stuck Dicky, who died and said nothing at all.
The next play I seed, O dear and O lack!
Where's a man called Othello, like sweepers was
black,

And he had a wife that was fair as a rose;

But wanting one morning to blow his black nose,
Asked his dear for a wiper-which she told him was
lost,

Which so greatly this sooty-like general crost,
That he took up a pillow, and swore it should fall
On her head-and for a woman she said little at all.
At the Merchant of Venice I stared with amaze,
Where a black-bearded Jew a nation sight pays
For one pound of flesh-nor could he once rest
Till he cut a rump-steak from another man's breast.
Then Macbeth so fine, spurred on by his wife,
Tickled up an old king with the end of a knife,
Then some hags told his fate, in a sort of a bawl,
When trees marched like men-he'd say nothing

all.

at

Then Hamlet I saw, the next heir to a crown,
Who came to a lady with stockings half down;
He walked with a ghost, and he jumped in a grave,
And he fought, killed, and died, most woundily brave.
Then Julie and Romeo I saw by the moon,

Who made love in the morning, and married at noon;
She shamm'd dead her husband for poison made
call-

He found her awake-they kissed—and said nothing at all.

ON A WIFE.

Here lies my poor wife, without bed or blanket;
B dead as a door nail: God be thanked.

Y

lard"-vociferated a peasant witness, writhing under this mental excruciation-"My lard-my lard, --I can't answer yon little gentleman, he's putting me in such a doldrum.”—“ A doldrum! Mr. Curran, what does he mean by a doldrum ?" exclaimed Lord Avonmore. "O! my lord, its a very common complaint with persons of this description-its merely a confusion of the head arising from a corruption of the heart."

WHICH ROAD?

All you that stop this stone to see,
Pray mark my steps and follow me.

Underwritten on the Tombstone.

To follow you I'm not content,
Unless I knew the road you went.

TWO OF A TRADE.

A physician being summoned to a vestry, to repri mand the sexton for drunkenness, dwelt so long on the sexton's misconduct, that the latter indignantly replied, "Sir! I was in hopes you would have treated my failings with more gentleness, or that you would have been the last man alive to appear against me, as I have covered so many blunders of yours!"

A MERRY MAN.

A merrier man,

Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal:
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch,
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest ;
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor)
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged years play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravished;
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

CLARET MATCH.

When Mr. Rigby was in Ireland, he was challeng

KNIGHTS OF THE SCREW.

Grand Prior of the Order.

ed by a nobleman to a match at drinking claret, for Composed by Mr. Curran, on his installation as twenty guineas. Mr. Rigby at first declined it; but finding the Irishman triumph in his unwillingness to engage, he was at last provoked to accept it. Two dozen of claret were introduced; the first dozen went off well, but upon entering on the second, the nobleman's tongue began to falter, and he fell under the table. Mr. Rigby called up the landlord, had the peer put to bed, and then finished the remainder of the liquor with his host. Next day, meeting his antagonist, his lordship acknowledged he had lost, and was going to pay the twenty guineas. "No, my lord," said Rigby, it was two to one against you; and you know the odds in liquor always lose, where the bubble is not barred."

THE PETITION OF I.

In 1759, Dr. Hill wrote a pamphlet, "To David Garrick, Esq. the Petition of I, in behalf of herself and sisters." The purport of it was to charge Mr. Garrick with mispronouncing some words including the letter I; as furm for firm, vurtue for virtue, and others; on which occasion Garrick wrote the following epigram.

If 'tis true, as you say, that I've injured a letter,
I'll change my notes soon, and I hope for the better,
May the just right of letters, as well as of men,
Hereafter be fixed by the tongue and the pen !
Most devoutly I wish they may both have their due,
And that I may be never mistaken for U.

PREVENTIVE OF JEALOUSY.

A beautiful young lady having called out an ugly gentleman to dance with her, he was astonished at the condescension, and believing that she was in love with him, in a very pressing manner desired to know why she had selected him from the rest of the company. Because, sir," replied the lady, "my husband commanded me to select such a partner as should not give him cause for jealousy."

When Saint Patrick our order created,
And called us the Monks of the Screw,
Good rules he revealed to our Abbot,
To guide us in what we should do.
But first he replenished his fountain
With liquor the best in the sky,
And he swore by the word of his saintship,
That fountain should never run dry.
My children, be chaste till you're tempted-
While sober, be wise and discreet-
And humbie your bodies with fasting,
Whene'er you've got nothing to eat.
Then be not a glass in the convent,
Except on a festival, found-
And this rule to enforce, I ordain it
A festival-all the year round.

THE BACHELOR'S RECANTATION. This can be no trick: the conference was sady borne. They have the truth of this. They seem to pity the lady; it seems her affections have their full bent. Love me! why it must be rebear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from quited. I hear how I am censured: they say, I wil her: they say too, that she will rather die than give I must not seem proud. Happy are they that bear any sign of affection.-I did never think to many their detractions, and can put them to tex They say, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can deir them witness: and virtuous;-'tis so, I cannot prove it; and wise, but for loving me.-By my trach, it is no addition to her wit;-not no great arginet of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with ber.-I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants wit broken on me, because I have railed so kne against marriage-but doth not the appetite sizer [ A man loves the meat in his youth, that he cam endure in his age: Shall quips, and sentences,

these paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the | the top of my voice will I be bawling,-put-put career of his humour? No: the world must be peo- some money in the plate, then your abomination pled. When I said, I would die a bachelor, I did shall be scalded off like bristles from the hog's not think I should live till I were married.-Here back, and ye shall be scalped of them ail as easily comes Beatrice. By this day, she's a fair lady: I as I pull off my periwig.

do spy some marks of love in her.

ON THREE WIVES.

Though marriage by most folks
Be reckoned a curse,
Three wives I did marry,

For better or worse.
The first for her person,

The next for her purse-
The third for a warming-pan,
Doctress, and nurse.

METHODIST SERMON.

ENGLISH SIR-LOIN.

The sirloin of beef is said to owe its name to King Charles the Second, who dining upon a loin, of beef, and being particularly pleased with it, asked the name of the joint. On being told, he said, "For its merit then I will knight it, and henceforth it shall be called Sir-Loin."

In a ballad of "The new Sir John Barleycorn," this circumstance is thus mentioned:

"Our Second Charles of fame facète,

On loin of beef did dine;

He held his sword, pleas'd, o'er the meat,
Arise, thou fam'd Sir-Loin."

In another ballad, "The Gates of Calais," it is thus noticed :

"Renown'd Sir-Loin, ofttimes decreed,

The theme of English ballad;
On thee our kings oft deign to feed,
Unknown to Frenchman's palate;
Then, how much doth thy taste exceed.
Soup maigre, frogs, and salad!"

MAN IN LOVE.

The floor of the world is filthy, the mud of Mammon eats up all your upper-leathers, and we are all become sad souls. Brethren, the word brethren comes from the tabernacle, because we all breathe therein; if you are drowzy I'll rouze you, I'll beat a tatoo upon the parchment case of your conscience, and I'll whisk the Devil like a whirligig among you. Now let me ask you a question seriously: Did you ever see any body eat any hasty-pudding? What faces they make when it scalds their mouths, phoo, phoo, phoo; what faces will you all make when old Nick nicks you? Now unto a bowl of punch I compare Marry, by these special marks: first, you have matrimony; there's the sweet part of it, which is the learned, like sir Proteus, to wreath your arms like a honey-moon; then there's the largest part of it, that's male-content: to relish a lovesong, like a robin-redthe most insipid that comes after, and that's the water; then there's the strong spirits, that's the husband's; then there's the sour spirit, that's the wife. But you don't mind me, no more than a dead horse does a pair of spectacles, if you did, the sweet words which I utter would be like a treacle posset to your palates. Do you know how many tailors make a man? Why ine.-How many half a man? Why four journey; met and an apprentice. So have ye all been bound prentices to Madam Faddle, the fashion-maker; ye have served your times out, and now you set up for your ves. My bowels and my small guts groan for you; the cat on the house-top is caterwauling, so from

breast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a schoolboy that had lost his A,B,C; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was for want of money: and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you my master.

Under a regimen.

† Allhallowmas,

NO GRUMBLING.—A TALE.

An odd whim once possessed a country squire, that he would not hire any servant whatever, until ten pounds should be deposited between the master and servant, and the first that grumbled at any thing was to forfeit the money. Being in want of a coachman, not one round the country would venture to go after the place, but at length one Thomas Winterbourn, being acquainted with the oddity of the squire's whim, resolved to accept of the place, and, on application, was admitted into the family.

In 1813, a sailor, who had just returned from India, with more money than he well knew what to do Thomas was greatly surprised, after living there with, took up his residence at a public house in Chel- about two months, that nothing was allowed him for sea, and spent his time and his money in the follow-breakfast, dinner, or supper, but bread and cheese and ing manner. He walked out before breakfast in the smail beer; being heartily tired of this kind of fare, morning, and the first persons he met of the labouring he applied to the cook, "Cookee," says Thomas, "is class, both men and women, he hired for the day. He it the standing rule of this family, to feed their ser then brought them to the house, and first paying them vants on nothing but bread and cheese ?" "What !” their wages, ordered each a couple of glasses of shrub says the cook, “do you grumble?" "No, no, by na and brandy, by way of a whet for breakfast, which means, cookee," replied Thomas, being fearful of consisted of hot rolls, toast, bread and butter, tea, forfeiting the money; but recollecting his master's park coffee, eggs, beef-steaks, and brandy. The remainder was stocked with fine deer, he took a musket, and "hot of the day, till dinner, he kept them singing, dancing, a fawn, skinned it, and brought it to the cook." Here, drinking, &c. cookee," said Thomas, "take and roast this fawn for At one o'clock, the sailor had dinner served up, me immediately, for I have an acquaintance of two which consisted of good roast beef, boiled legs of mut- to come down from London to pay me a visit." The ton, plumb pudding, and porter; and after dinner, cook seemed to object to it, having some meat to there was plenty of port wine, and other liquors. dress directly for her master. "What!" says Thomas, The wine was brought by a dozen bottles at a time." cookce, do you grumble ?" "No," replied the cook; This social tar never hired the same persons to be merry a second day, but had a fresh party every morning; and his company, each day, was limited to twelve persons, besides the musician.

SINGULAR INTERMARRIAGE.

Mr. Hardwood had two daughters by his first wife, the eldest of whom was married to John Coshick: this Coshick had a daughter by his first wife whom old Hardwood married, and by her had a son therefore John Coshick's second wife could say, My father is my son, and I'm my mother's mother; My sister is my daughter, and I'm grandmother to my brother.

so the fawn was roasted.-The appointed time arrived that the master ordered dinner, and no sign of any coming to his table, occasioned him to ring the bell, to know the reason of it; the cook acquainted the squire with Thomas's proceedings, who, in a great hurry, bolted down stairs into the kitchen, where he found Thomas very busy in basting the fawn. "low got you that fawn?" said the squire." Shot it," replied Thomas.-"Where?" asked the squire." In your park," replied Thomas.-" By whose orders quoth the squire.-" Do you grumble?" says Thomas. "No, Thomas," said the squire, and retired-He immediately wrote a letter to a gentleman who lived near six miles from the house, and ordered that

1

once, seems not to me so great a miracle, as that there is not one always."

AMENDE HONOURABLE.

From a Lincoln Mercury for February, 1806.
Whereas I Benjamin Birch,

Of Boston town (and near the church,)
At Stamford market, o'er the bowl,
Got drunk and slandered neighbour Cole:
For which he hath, to my vexation,
By law compelled this declaration :
That I, without just cause or reason,
Made use of words as bad as treason,
I therefore do his pardon ask,
A most unpleasant, painful task;
But as I own I was to blame,
Why dang it then I'll sign my name.
Boston, Jan. 7, 1806.

A SEASONABLE HINT.

B. Birch.

Thomas should carry it immediately. Poor Thomas was obliged to comply, though with a sorrowful heart to leave the fawn. After his departure, the squire ordered the fawn, when dressed, to be brought to his table, which was done accordingly. On Thomas's return, he found himself tricked out of the fawn; and instead of it, to his mortification, bread and cheese and small beer, his old diet.-A little while after, the squire gave orders to Thomas to get his carriage, together with the horses and harness, well cleaned. Thomas obeyed the order, and on the road from the stable to the squire's house, he met a man with a small sand-cart, drawn by two fine jack-asses. Thomas insisted upon an exchange, the horses for the asses, which being obtained, he cut all his master's fine har. ness to fit these Arabian poneys, as he styled them. Matters being completed, he drove boldly up to the squire's, and knocked at the gate; the porter perceiving the droll figure his master's equipage cut, burst out into an immoderate fit of laughter. Shortly after the squire came, and seeing his carriage so beauti- Dean Cowper of Durham, who was very economifully adorned with cattle, was struck with astonish-cal of his wine, descanting one day on the extraordiment. "Why, what the devil," quoth the squire, nary performance of a man who was blind, he re"have you got harnessed to my carriage?" "I will marked, that the poor fellow could see no more than tell you," said Thomas. "As I was driving from" that bottle." I do not wonder at it at all, sir," your stables to the gate, I met a fellow driving a sand repiied Mr. Drake, a minor canon, "for we have cart drawn by these two fine Arabian poneys, and seen no more than "that bottle," all the afternoon." knowing you to be fond of good cattle, I gave your horses for these two fine creatures; they draw well, and are an ornament to your carriage.' "D- -n their ears and ornaments too," said the squire, "why the fellow's mad!"-"What!" cries Thomas, "do you grumble?" Grumble!" quoth the squire, "by G-d, I think it's high time to grumble the next thing, I suppose, my carriage is to be given away for a sand cart."On Thomas's procuring the horses be paid him his wages and forfeit money, being heartily tired of the oddity of his whim, and declared that Thomas, the London coachman, was the drollest dog he ever met with.

agam,

THE DELUGE.

Sir Thomas Browne hearing a person oppugn the seriptural deluge, replied" That there was a deluge

THE TAILOR'S DREAM.

At Hippocrene's fount I would fain take a sip

Of wit from the clear-flowing stream,
To sing of a luckless descendant from Snip,
Who fell ill, and was mournful as hen with the pip,

Because of an ominous dream.

He dream'd that the angel, who pilfering watches,
Expos'd a large cloth to his view,

And, as he show'd this collection of patches,
Compos'd of the pieces he'd cribb'd by small snatches,
That he beat him black, yellow, and blue.
Poor Snip, though asleep, with Stentorian might,
'Gan to bellow and hideously roar;
And awoke from his dream in a terrible fright,
Devoutly determin'd, from that very night,

He'd be honest, and ne'er cabbage more.