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Pounds a year will not be proposed to him, and if made gold, the more agreeable. . Your petitioner persuades himself that your majoy will not impute this his humble application to any mean interested motive, of which he has always had the utmost abhorrence.—No, sir! he confesses his weakness: honour alone is his object; honour is his Passion; that honour which is sacred to him as a peer, and tender to him as a gentleman; that honour, in short, to which he has sacrificed all other consideralions—It is upon this single principle that your Petitioner solicits an honour, which at present in so extraordinary a manner adorns the British Peerage; and which, in the most shining periods of ancient Greece, distinguished the greatest men, who were in the Prytaneum at the expense of the public. Upon this honour, far dearer to your petitioner than his life, he begs leave, in the most solemn anner, to assure your majesty, that in case you shall be pleased to grant this his most modest request, he will honourably support and promote, to the utmost of his abilities, the very worst measures, that the very worst ministers can suggest; but, at the *ame time, should he unfortunately, and in a singular manner, be branded by a refusal, he thinks him*If obliged in honour to declare, that he will, with the utmost acrimony, oppose the very best measures which your majesty yourself shall ever propose or Promote. And your petitioner, &c.
“That though some fops of Celia prate,
Eccent Ric Hospit ALITY.
During the late American war, a soldier, who had been wounded and honourably discharged, (but, perhaps, not paid,) being destitute aud benighted, knocked at the door of an Irish farmer, when the following dialogue ensued:
Patrick—And who the devil are you now *
Soldier—My name is John Wilson.
Patrick—And where the devil are you going from, John Wilson?
Soldier—From the American army at Erie, sir. Patrick—And what in the devil do you want here 2 Soldier–-I want shelter to-night; will you permit me * spread my blanket on your floor and sleep tonight? 'Patrick—Devil take me if I do, John Wilson, that's flat. Soldier—On your kitchen floor, sir? Patrick—Not I, by the Hill o'Howth—that's flat. Soldier—In your stable then : Patrick—I'm d-d if I do that either—that's flat. Soldier—I am dying with hunger : give me but a bone and a crust; I ask no more. Patrick—The devil blow me if I do, sir—that's flat. Soldier—Give me some water to quench my thirst, I beg of you. Patrick—Beg and be hanged, I'll do no such thing—that's flat. Soldier–Sir, I have been fighting to secure the blessings you enjoy; I have assisted in contributing to the glory and welfare of the country which has hospitably received you, and can you so inhospitably reject me from your house? Patrick—Reject you, who in the devil talked a word about rejecting you ? May be I am not the scurvy spalpeen you take me to be, John Wilson. You asked me to let you lie on my floor, o kitchen floor, or in my stable; now, by the powers, d'ye think I'd let a perfect stranger do that, when I have half a dozen soft feather beds all empty 2 No, by the Hill o'Howth, John, that's flat. In the second place you told me you were dying with hunger, and wanted a bone and a crust to eat; now, honey, d'ye think I'll feed a hungry man on bones and crust, when oy yard is full of fat pullets, and turkeys, and pigs 1 No, by the powers, not I—-that's flat. In the third place, you asked me for some simple water to quench your thirst; now as my water is none of the best, I never give it to a poor traveller without mixing it with plenty of wine, brandy, whiskey, or something else wholesome and cooling. Come into my house, my honey; devis blow me, but you shall sleep in the
best feather bed I have ; you shall have the best supper and breafast that my farm can supply, which, thank the Lord, is none of the worst; you shall drink as much water as you choose, provided you mix it with plenty of good wine or spirits, and provided also you prefer it. Come in my hearty, come in, and feel yourself at home. It shall never be said, that Patrick O'Flaherty theated a man scurvily who has been fighting for the dear country which gave him protection—that's flat. Prose v. Portin Y.
Mr. Gifford to Mr. Hazlitt. What we read from your pen we remember no more.
Mr. Hazlitt to Mr. Gifford. What we read from your pen we remember before.
Riv A.I. I.overs. The following, said to be from the pen of the author of Palestine, was circulated in MS. some vears since in the University of Oxford. It was occasioned by the elopement and marriage of a daughter of one of the Professors with her father's footman; the lady, whose name was Arabella, choosing this step, rather than be constrained to receive the addresses of an elderly gentleman, who, from a peculiarity in his gait, was nicknamed Dr. Toe. Twixt foot-man John and Dr. Tor, A rivalship befell ; Which should prove the favour'd beau, To bear away the Belle. The foot-man won the lady's heart, And who can blame her no man; The whole prevail'd against a part, 'Twas foot-man versus Toe-Inan.
Now rol, caixi cox. A young officer, a cornet in a regiment, being hos. pitably entertained by a neighbouring fauner, formed a deliberate plan to seduce his wife. The usual siege was laid, and such assiduity preserved, that it could not escape the eye of the farmer; but, dePending on his wife's constancy, he did not forbid the military advances of his guest. In process of time, however, the lady, who despised the advances of the captain, took an opportunity of stating the *hole case to her husband : in consequence of which * plan was laid, and the execution nearly proved fatal to the lover. The fanner one day invited all he officers of the regiment to dine with him, except the captain; and the captain was not a little rallied on the neglect at the mess-room, where he had often said he should make the farmer's wife one of * regimental followers. However, the day previous *the dinner, the captain received a lette, from the ady, intimating that if he would attedd at the garden Fale at half-past ten the sanie night, he should be conducted to a much more delicate entertainment than eating and drinking. All things were prepared -the officers dined with the farmer—and the captin, true to his appointment, met an Abigail, who conducted him to her mistress's bed-room. He was on under the bed-clothes, and scarcely there before * received such a pressing hug as obliged him to all out for help ; the alarm was given—the company an up stairs with lights, and found the captain fast locked in the arms of a great she dancing bear. The *Prietor of the beast holding the chain of his bear on the left-hand side of the bed: the first business ** to release the poor lover from his hugging misten, which, with the assistance of the keeper, was *on tssected, but at the expense of three broken ribs *nd a violent contusion on the temple: such was the "inding up of his expected felicity. THE UN pert Ake R's BILL.
* An undertaker waited on a gentleman with the o for the burial of his wife, amounting to 67 l. 'That's a vast sum," said the widower, “for laying
After one of the first musicians had been playing a solo, and shown a great many tricks upon his instrument, and was receiving applause for his great execution, a Lady observed to Dr. Johnson, how amazingly difficult the performance must be. “ Madam,” said the doctor, “I wish it had been impossible.” T in E PE, Eir AN ID trip, PE DLArt.
A Member of the modern great
A nobleman being seated with a party of ladies in a stage-bcx, a sprig of fashion came in booted and spurred. At the end of the act, the peer rose, and making the young man a low bow, said, “I beg lcave, Sir, in the name of these ladies, and for myself, to offer you our thanks for your forbearance.”—“I don’t understand you ; what do you mean *" said the stranger. “I mean,” repeated the other. “ as you have come with your boots and spurs, to thank you that you have not brought you horse.”
Hodge held a farm, and smil'd content,
But luckless still poor Hodge's fate’
His worship's bull has forc'd a gate,
“I come an’t please you to unfold
Hodge shrugg’d, and made another bow,
George III. once noticed a Mr. Blanchard's hou" on Richiuond Hill; and, being told it belonged" a card-maker, he observed, “What! what who a card-maker! all his cards must have tumed "P trumps.” o - -
The Rev. Mr. Dodd, a very worthy minister, who ord a few miles from Cambridge, had rendered osses obnoxious to many of the Cantabs by fre*htly preaching against drunkenness. Several of ** meeting him on a journey, they determined to mke him preach in a hollow tree, which was near * roadside. Accordingly, addressing him with Frit apparent politeness, they asked him if he had * lately preached much against drunkenness. On is replying in the affirmative, they insisted that he *uld now preach from a text of their choosing. In on did he remonstrate on the, unreasonableness of *Pecting him to give them a discourse without toy, and in such a place : they were determined to * no denial, and the word MALT was given him o way of text, on which he immediately delivered itself as follows:– * Beloved, let me crave your attention. I am a He man, come at a short warning, to preach a ort seruon, from a small subject, in an unworthy of it, to a small congregation. Beloved, my text is *ALT: I cannot divide it into words, it being but *; nor into syllables, it being but one; I must, ofore, of necessity divide it into letters, which I “d to be these four, M, A, L., T. “M, my beloved, is Moral ; A, is allegorical; is Literal; T, is Theological. The Moral is set oth to teach you drunkards good manners; thereote, M, Masters; A, all of you; L, listen; T. to my lot. The Allegorical is when one thing is spoken, o another thing is meant. The thing spoken of is Milt; the thing meant is the Juice of Malt; which * Cantabs make—M, your Master; A, your Ap*sel; L, your Liberty; and T, your Trust. The oral is, according to the Letter—M, Much, * Ale; L, Little; T, Trust. The Theological is acording to the effects that it works; and these I find * be of two kinds: first in this world; secondly, *the world to come. The effects that it works in ou world are, in some, M, Murder; in others, A, Adul
tery; in all, L, Looseness of Life; and in some T, Treason. The effects that it works in the world to come, are—M, Misery; A, Anguish; L, Lamentation; and T, Torment, and so luuch for this time and text. “I shall improve this, first by way of exhortation —M, Masters, A, All of you ; L, Leave off; T Tipling; or secondly, by way of excommunication— M, Masters; A, All of you; L., Look for; T, Torment. Thirdly, by way of caution take this. A drunkard is the annoyance of modesty, the spoil of civility, the destruction of reason, the brewer's agent, the alehouse benefactor, his wife's sorrow, his children's trouble, his own shame, his neighbour's scoff, a walking s will-bowl, the picture of a beast, and the monster of a man.”
This nobleman was so accustomed to promises, that no applicant whatever left his presence without an assurance of having what he solicited for. A major in the army once waited upon him on his return from abroad. “My dear major,” said his grace, running up to him, and embracing him, “I am heartily glad to see you ; I hope all things go well with you.”—“I can't say they do, my lord duke,” returned he “I have had the misfortune to lose my ”—“Say no more, my dear major,” returned be, “ say no more, I entreat you, I'll give you a better.”—“Better, my lord,” returned the major, “that cannot be "—“How so, my dear friend ? how so?” replied the duke. “Because,”
rejoined the major, “I have lost my leg.”