But attach a to his trade, like a thorough-pac'd varlet, | Here was an impudent fellow in a laced waistcoat, He soon found a reason to cheat who would fain have passed for you: but I soon sent him packing with a flea in his ear." FIRST COME FIRST SERVED. A fellow having been adjudged, on a conviction of perjury, to lose his ears; when the executioner came to put the sentence of the law in force, he found that he had been already cropped. The hangman seemed a little surprised. "What," said the criminal, with all the sang froud imaginable, " am I obliged to furnish you with ears every time you are pleased to crop me?" BEGONE DULL CARE, Come fill the bowl!-oh! fill it up- But shake the sands from out his glass, A POETICAL NIGHT. When Faulknor returned from London, where he had been soliciting subscriptions for his edition of Piron, the celebrated satirist, and Gallet and Colli Swift's works, he went to pay his respects to the dean, two congenial spirits, after spending an evening of dressed in a laced waistcoat, bag wig, and other fop-great hilarity at the house of a lady, celebrated fat peries. Swift received him as a perfect stranger. her bel esprit, took their departure together, and en Pray, sir, what are your commands with me?"- foot. On reaching the corner of La Rue du IIndlay, "I thought it my duty to wait on you immediately Piron proposed to take leave of his companions, as ha after my arrival from London." "Pray, sir, who are way hence lay by the Fauxbourg St. Germain, what you?"" George Faulknor, the printer." "You theirs lay in the opposite directions of the Quartie George Faulknor, the printer! Why, you are the St. Eustache. The two friends, however, wouki not most impudent, barefaced impostor I ever heard of. hear of parting; they pressed to be allowed to ester: Faulknor is a sober, sedate citizen, and would never Piron to his own door, expatiated on the danger trick himself out in lace and other fopperies. Get which a solitary individual, at such an hour of for about your business, and thank your stars I do not night, was in, of being way-laid by robbers; and re send you to the house of correction." Poor George forced their representations, by a thousand stories o hobbled away as fast as he could, and, having changed unfortunate persons, pillaged and murdered. Fen his dress, returned immediately to the deanery. Swift, was not to be frightened; he persisted in going al on his return, went up and shook him by the hand and, as an excuse for his obstinacy, pretended that with the utmost cordiality. My good friend, he had a piece of verse in his head, which he was George, I am heartily glad to see you safe returned, to compose by the way. "But you forget,” observat his friends, "that poets don't go in such noble suits of velvet as that you have on; the first rogue you meet, deceived by appearances, will take you for a financier at least, and will attack and kill you for the sake of your clothes and money. How melancholy to hear to-morrow that- -" "Ah! gentlemen," interrupted Piron, briskly, "it is my clothes then that you wish to escort, and not me. Why did not you say so sooner?" In the twinkling of an eye, off went coat and doublet, and throwing them to Gallet and Collé, he bolted from them with the rapidity of lightning. After a moment lost in surprise at this fantastic proceeding, the two friends ran after him, calling out to him," for God's sake to stop," that "he would catch his death of cold." Piron, however, paid no regard to their entreaties, and being a good runner, was soon so much a head, that they began to think of giving up the pursuit; when, to their astonishment, they beheld Piron returning on his steps, accompanied by a party of police. "Ah!" exclaimed the sergeant of the party, to whom Piron had told a wonderful story of his being stripped and robbed, "there are the villains: see, they have the clothes in their hands." "Yes, yes," said Piron, "the very men." The guard instantly laid hold of them, restored to Piron his clothes, and told the astonished friends, that they must go before the commissary, to answer for the robbery. Gallet wished to explain, very seriously, how the matter stood, but the sergeant would not listen to him. Collé, who entered more into the humour of the scene, being ordered to deliver up a sword which he wore, thus parodied the words of the earl of Essex, in the tragedy of that name, as he surrendered his weapon into their hands: would be done with the two robbers? The sergeant, with unaffected gravity, replied, that at the very least they would be hung, though worse might happen to them. After amusing himself in this strain for some time, Piron, afraid of pushing the adventure too far, changed his tone, represented the whole affair as a mere frolic, and claimed the two prisoners as two of his best friends. "Ah! ah!" exclaimed the sergeant," you are a fine fellow truly; now that you have got your clothes back, the robbers are honest people, and your best friends. No, sir, you must not think to dupe us in this way." The party had now reached the house of the commissary, who was in bed, but had left his clerk to officiate for him. The sergeant began to make his report of the affair to this commissary-substitute, but was so often interrupted by the pleasantries of Piron, that he could not get through with it. Piron then addressing the clerk described, in its true colours, the midnight adventure of himself and friends; but the clerk proved as slow of belief as the sergeant; treated the whole story as a fiction, and the narrator as an impostor. Taking up his pen, he prepared to go into an examination of the matter, with all the formality required in the gravest proceedings, and ordered Piron to answer distinctly the questions he would put to him. Piron. "As you please, monsieur, only make despatch; I will assist, if you like, to put the processverbal into verse." Clerk. "Come, sir, none of your nonsense, let us proceed. What is your name ?" P. C. "Piron; at your service." P. "I make verses." C. "Verses! what are verses? Ah! you are making game of me." P. No, sir; I do make verses; and to prove it to you, I will instantly make some on yourself, either for or against you, as you please." C. "I have already told you, sir, that I will have none of this verbiage; if you persist, you shall have cause to repent it." The clerk now turned to Gallet, and having ob tained his name, thus proceeded to interrogate city, repeated the following appropriate couplet from Piron's Calisthenes: him: C. G. "What is your profession? what do you do?” "I make songs, sir." C. "Ah! I see how it is, you are all in a plot; I must call up the commissary. He will show you what it is to make a mockery of justice." G. “O, pray, sir, do not disturb the repose of M. Commissary; allow him to sleep on; you are so much awake, that, without flattery, you are worth a dozen commissaries. I mock not justice, believe me; I am indeed a maker of songs; and you, a man of taste, must yourself have by heart the last which I wrote, and which has been for a month past the admiration of all Paris. Ah, sir, need I repeat, 'Daphnis m'amait, Si joliment, Qu'il me plaisait 'J'ai tout dit, tout, seigneur ; cela doit vous suffire; Qu'on me mene à la mort, je n'ai plus rien à dire." As he finished these words, Collé, with all the air of a genuine tragedy-hero, strutted towards the guard, bidding them "lead on.' So burlesque a conclusion to the examination, called forth a general burst of laughter. The clerk alone, far from laughing, grew pale with rage, and denouncing vengeance, ran to awake the commissary. "Ah, sir," exclaimed Piron, in a tone of raillery," do not ruin us; we are persons of family." The commissary was in so profound a sleep, that some time passed before he made his appearance. Piron and his friends, however, did not suffer the action to cool; but kept the guard in a constant roar of laughter with their drolleries. At length M. Commissary was announced. "What is all this noise “You see, sir, that I do not impose upon you. I about?" demanded he, gruffly. "Who are you, sir ?** your name?""Piron." am really a sonneteer; and what is more, sir, (making addressing himself to Piron; "What are you?" "A poet." "A poet ?" "Yes, a profound reverence to the clerk,) a dealer in spi sir, a poet, the most noble and sublime of all profes ceries, at your service, in the Rue de la Truanderie." sions. Alas! where can you have lived all your days, Scarcely had Gallet finished, when Collé began : that you have not heard of the poet Piron? I think "I wish," said he, "to save you the trouble of asking questions. My name is Charles Collé, I live nothing of your clerk being ignorant of my name and in the Rue du Jour, parish of St. Eustache; my bu-quality; but what a scandal for a great public officer, siness is to do nothing; but when the couplets of my friend here (pointing to Gallet) are good, I sing them." Collé then sung, by way of example, the following smart anacreontic: Avoir dans sa cave profonde Vin excellent, en quantité; Est la seule félicité, Il n'est point de vrais biens au monde, "And," continued Collé, " when my other friend here (pointing to Piron) makes good verses, I declaim them;" to illustrate which, he, with equal feli like you M. Commissary, not to know the great P ron, author of Fils Ingrats, so justly applauded by all Paris; and of Calisthenes, so unjustly damned, as I have shown to the public by some verses, which prove it to a demonstration." Piron would have gone on farther in his gasconading strain, but the commissary interrupted ham, by pleasantly observing, You speak of plays, M. Piron; don't you know that Lafosse is my brother; that he writes excellent ones, and that he is the author of Manlius? Ah, sir, there is a man of great genius." "I believe it, sir." replied Piron, "for I too have a brother who is a great fool, although he is a priest, and although I write tragedies." The commissary either felt not the smart of this repartee, or had the good sense to conceal it. After a few more inquiries, he saw into the real character of the affair, invited Piron to relate it at length, and (to the satisfaction of all present but his sagacious clerk) not only believed, but laughed most heartily at it. He then dismissed the three friends, not with a rebuke, but with a polite invitation to dine with him at his house on the day following. "Ah! my friends," exclaimed Piron, as he left the office, no thing more is wanting to my glory; I have made even the alguazils laugh." EPITAPH ON DOLLY'S CHARMS. CAUSE AND EFFECT. A physician calling one day on a gentleman who had been severely afflicted with the gout, found, to his surprise, the disease gone, and the patient rejoicing in his recovery over a bottle of wine. "Come along, doctor," exclaimed the valetudinarian, " you are just in time to taste this bottle of Madeira; it is the first of a pipe that has just been broached." "Ah!" replied the doctor, "these pipes of Madeira will never do; they are the cause of all your suffering," "Well, then," rejoined the gay incurable, "fill up your glass, for now that we have found out the cause, the sooner we get rid of it the better." NICE MEASUREMENT. An idler who had more wit than money, went to an inn in Smithfield, during a market day, and wine before him, entered into conversation with him, seeing a country farmer with a tankard of mulled and after enumerating several extraordinary things he could do, said, he could drink the exact quantity more nor less; the farmer expressed some doubts, of a wine glass from the full tankard, and neither 66 I do not like to when, to prove it, the fellow said, lay heavy wagers, but I will just bet you a penny I do it." The farmer agreed; when the stranger took the tankard, and drinking the whole off at a draught, turned to the farmer, and said, "I own, sir, I have lost, there is my penny." JOHNSONIAN MAXIMS. It has been said of Dr. Johnson, by his biographer, that many a day did he fast, many a year did he abstain from wine; but when he eat, it was voraciously; when he drank, it was copiously. The doctor, however, was not insensible to the pleasures of the table, or the relative effect of liquors, which he thus fixed; claret for boys, port for men, and brandy for heroes. Mr. Burke, on hearing the doctor thus apportion liquors, said, "Then let me have claret, I love to be a boy, to have the careless gaiety of boyish days." "I should drink claret too," replied Johnson, "if it would give me that; but it does not; it neither makes boys men, nor men boys. You and I would be drowned in claret, before it would have any effect on us." LOQUACITY. The abbé Raynal and the abbé Galignani, who were both incessant talkers, were invited to the house of a mutual friend, who wished to amuse himself by bringing them together. Galignani, who began the conversation, engrossed it so thoroughly, and talked with such volubility, that Raynal could not find the least opening to introduce a word; but turning to his friend, said in a low voice, "S'il crache, il est perdu." Nappy ale, good and stale, in a browne bowle, For my good welcome in every degree. I wis, quoth Richard, no dainty at all it is, The king perceiving him fearfully trembling, Part the Second. When as our royall king home from Nottingham, In what place, sayd our king, may be bought like to For, in this merriment, 'tis my desire this? We never pay pennye for itt, by my fay: At last, at the millers cott, soone they espy'd him out, Which made the miller's heart wofully bleede: To talke with the jolly knight, and the young s They were right joy full and glad in their bents. The which had often-times been in those parti And to your sonne Richard good fortune and hapesir That sweet, gentle, and gallant young squa Thou hast contented my worshippe full well Hold, here are three farthings, to quite thy gent For these happy tydings, which thou dost |