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He trotted on—arrived—sat down,
Some days elapsed and no one came
The tale got wind.—What, Peter make a blunder 1 There was no end of joke, and quiz, and wonder Which, with the loss of cash, so mortified Prin, that he suffer'd an attack Of bile, and bargain'd with a quack, Who daily swore to cure him—till he died When, as no will was found, His scraped, and saved, and hoarded store Went to a man to whom some months before, He had refused to lend a pound. - THE MUNIFICENT SAINT, A devout lady offered up a prayer to St. Ignatius for the conversion of her husband ; a few days after, the man died “What a good saint is our Ignatius !” exclained the consolable widow, “ he bestows on us more benefits than we ask *or "
DANGElt OF SCEPTICISM,
Mallet, the poet, was so fond of being though! a sceptic, that he indulged this weakness on all occasions. His wife, it is said, was a complete convert to his doctrines, and even the servants stared at their master's bold arguments, without being poisoned by their influence. One fellow: however, was determined to practise what Mallo! was so solicitous to propagate, and robbed his master's house Being pursued, and brought to justice, Mallet attended, and taxed him severely with ingratitude and dishonesty. “Sir,” said the fellow, “I have often heard you talk of the in: possibility of a future state ; that, after death, there was neither reward for virtue, nor punishment for vice, and this tempted me to commit the robbery.”—“Well! but, you rascal,” replied Mallet, “ had you no fear of the gallows "“Master,” said the culprit, looking sternly at him, “what is it to you, if I had a mind to venture that You had removed my greatest terror; why should I fear the less *"
Archbishop Usher, when crossing the channel from Ireland to this country, was wrecked on some part of the coast of Wales. On this disastrous occasion, after having reached the shore, he made the best of his way to the house of a clergyman, who resid: ed not far from the spot on which he was cast. Without communicating his name, or his dignified station, the archbishop introduced himself as a brother clergyman in distress, and stated the particulars of his misfortune. The Cainbrian divine suspecting his unknown visitor to be an impostof, gave him no very courteous reception; and having intimated his suspicions, said, “I dare say you can't tell me how many commandments there are." —“There are eleven,” replied the archbishop, very meekly. “Repeat the eleventh,” rejoined the other, “and I will relieve you;”—“Put it in practice and you will,” answered the primate. !" A new commandment I give unto you, that you B EN JONSON A BRICKLAYER. Ben Jonson, in the early part of his life, was a bricklayer, but was then distinguished for his wit and poetical talents. A lady of considerable humoor, who had heard of him, passing him one morning while he was at work, addressed him thus— “With line and rule, Works many a fool : Good morning, master bricklayer.” To this Ben replied, ** 11, silk and scarlet Walks many a harlo : - Good morning, madam.”
lovc one another.” -
Ci V1 C CONUNDIt UM.
A fashionable emigrant being invited to dine with a city alderman, in whose hands he had lodged noney, was for a long time tormented with extravagant encomiums on a giblet-pie, which his host was most voraciously devouring. “Have you ever, mounseer,” said the alderman, “ have you ever seen any thing like it "–“ Nothing in my life,” replied the other, “except your wor. ship's wig.”—“ Ha! hal” exclaimed the alderman, “that's a good one. But pray how is my wig like that pie.”—“ Pardie,” rejoined the Frenchman, “ because it has a goose's head in it.”
the ROPE. Two persons quarrelling in a public-house, one told the other he knew what would haug him. “You are a liar,” replied his antagonist, “ and 1 defy you to prove your words,” when the first produced a rope, and said, “ this would hang you.” the TA Rt RePl Y. Says the squire to the parson, “if you were to lie In this dirt, we could make a substantial goose pie: Quoth the parson, “if you in your grave were extended, [mended,) (Which I hope won't happen till your morals are And I read the prayers, by a much better rule, The parish might call me a goose-bury fool.”
CRITIC IN BLAck, AND THE lispi NG LADY. A Mail-coach Adventure.
The night was dark and stormy, nor except from the occasional glimpse of a lamp as we passed through Islington, could I form any idea of the physiognomy of my three companions; nor was it until the constant use of a soull-box, that set the whole coach sneezing, that I discovered the person opposite me to be a Frenchman ; and although we were four in the inside, as loving and as compact, aye, as potted beef, it was at least two hours before one word was spoken. In another corner of the coach was a lady with a pug-dog, which she hug
ged with all possible care and attention ; aud op
posite her was a cynical old gentleman in black, who might have passed either for a poor parson, a rich attorney, a bishop, or a Welch judge, and seemed to have taken an oath of solemn silence the moment he entered the coach ; this seemed to give great uneasiness to the Frenchman, who, by a variety of sighs, shrugs, hints, and peeps at the old gentleman, tried to break the ice which had hitherto frozen up all conversation. However, he made an attempt at a thaw of words ; perhaps it would be requisite to tell you what he meant before I tell you what he said; he meant to say that the coach he was in had started first from town, but had suffered another to pass it, which he had thus expressed—Mister Sare, dat coach wich was fairst bye and bye is now behind very--but observing he was not attended to, he addressed himself particularly to the old gentleman in black, sitting opposite to him, who seemed to have taken an oath of solemn silence the moment he entered the coach—and all he could get in reply was a frown, an occasional nod, or a grunt, ugh ; Ah, ah, monsieur, vat is dat ugh Je me comprend pas, monsieur; I don't understand dat ugh. Parlez vous Francois, monsieur, coininent vous portez vous, monsieur. How you do, sair & Ugh, ugh Are you not well, sair c'est bien drole – c'est biel, comical ; ah, that gentleman shall not speak to me.—Are you not well, sair : I am
not very well myself, it is very warm, it is quite de day of de dog—and whenever it is de day of dog, I have de bad of de head. I have not drink a present, mais, I must confess last night I did drink for sixpence too much of your ponch–Ugh. However the Frenchman having heard that perseverance always answered, he was now determined to try its effect, by putting a direct question to him, and trusting to his politeness for an answer— “dites moi, tell me, sare, are you not well ;” at last the old gentleman was provoked to a reply, and said, though not in the civilest tone in the world, “I am remarkably well, I was very well when I left town; I am very well now, and if I should happen to be taken ill, sir, I'll let you know.” Finding all attempts at conversation were ineffectual with him, he deterinined to try his persuasion with the softer sex: he then turned round to the lady with the pug-dog ; and here he was rather more fortunate in his application— being one of those who are called agreeable companions in a stage-coach, who would rather talk nonsense than not talk at all. When he said, “madam, shall I have de pleasure to talk to you, because dat gentleman shall not speak to me?”— “Oh, yes, monsieur,” with a lisp, “with the greatest pleasure in life, what shall we talk about?” —“Oh madame, it is not for me to chuse—vat you please, theatrique, politique, Belle LettreLetters ; talking of letters, pray what do you think of the letter S, madame *"—“The letter S, sir!”—“Madame, I don't understand you.”—“I inean, sir, with respect to the pronunciation on it.” --" Pronunciation, oh madame, I cannot pronounce it at all ; it is de diable himself ; it is true we have it in our language, merely pro forma at the end of our words; but there he lay wriggling and twisting about like a French horn upon pianoforte. Oh the letter S. is le diable himself.”— “O ! sir, I think it is the sweetest sounding letter in the whole alphabet; you must know, sir, I always cultivate the sound of the S, for I was married to Mr. Simmer, the soap-boiler, in St. Mary Axe ; he used to say, ' Selina, my soul,
you have the sweetest lisp ;’ so I’ve retained my lisp, though I have lost him poor soul. You must know, sir, so fond am I of the letter S, l have taught my daughter Selina to cultivate it in the same way; and I never take a servant into ny house if she has not got an S in her name. Two got a servant called Sukey, and another called Sophy, a cat called Frisk, and a dog called Sinolensko ; so I told my daughter Selina, to repeat a little lesson after me—that was to tell Sukey to bring the scissars off the sofa, to cut Smolensko's tail.” The M EDDLER,
“ Will and Hal, love their bottle.” Well, Prat' tle why not - [sot. Drink as much as they can, 'twill not make you.” “ Phil's purse has fin’d deep for illicit amours.” Well, Prattle, the damage is Philip's, not yours. “Surface revels all night, and sleeps out half the day.” Well, Prattle, his pranks will not turn your head grey. “Charles, ruin’d by gambling, begs alms to subsist.” Well, Prattle, subscribe or withhold as you list. Be less busy, good Prattle, with others affairs! Keep an eye to concernsof your own, and not theirs. You're in risk of arrest, Prattle, that's your concern ; None will lend you a doit, and you’ve no means to earn. Your wife's ever drunk, Prattle, that concerns you. Miss Prattle, your daughter's with child—and that too. I could preach thus a week, did my taste so incline, But, Prattle, your scrapes are no businesss of mine.
Foote once went to spend his Christmas at a friend's, when the weather being very cold, and but bad fires, occasioned by a scarcity of wood, Foote was determined to make his visit as short as possible; accordingly, on the third day after he went there, he ordered his chaise, and was preparing to set out for town. A lady seeing him with his boot on in the morning, asked him what hurry he was in and pressed him to stay. “No. no,” says Foote, “was 1 to stay any longer, you would not let me have a leg to stand on ”—“Why, sure,” says the lady, “we do not drink so hard.” —“No,” says the wit, “but there is so little wood in your house, that I am afraid one of your servants may light the fires some morning with my
the way of Lord G
And other things in proper place.
P. Oh! I am the unluckiest dog alive, I am lost fifty pounds this
alia ost ruined ; I have morning. S. How, how, man; I never knew you had so much to lose 2 P. Oh it is always my luck, always unfortunate ; a heavy loss, a dead loss | - o S. (Sympathetically.) But how happened it? . P. W by , last week 1 bought a volume of plates at a sale for forty shillings; and as they were in - 's collection, I offered their to him. He appointed to call this morning; I went ; his Lord hip was engaged, and I sat down in the anti-room. I had resolved to put a good five pounds profit on, and began looking over the prints, that I might see where to insist on their value. It struck one that they looked better than before, and 1 determined to ask ten pounds. for then | Well, sir, I waited and waited till