THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER. of his acquaintance that he had poisoned himself, on which a lady observed, "Surely, he must have bitten bis own tongue." THE HAUNTED CHAMBER. So I stept into bed, and (I speak without boast) A poetical Epistle from a young Gentleman in the Well, nothing appear'd, and my eyes 'gan to Country to his Brother in London. Safe seated at uncle's, to promises true, I send the good news, my dear brother to you; wine;— And the good of all goods-female beauty, divine! blest, The elegant Emily soars o'er the rest. But 'tis time I descend from heroics, to tell The chambers all occupied (so said our host) I thought they were quizzing; but all our fair cousins close It struck three, just as I was beginning to doze, I I own I felt queerish, and shiver'd ;-but hear- I fancied I heard my strange bedfellow breathe! I judg'd 'twas some lady who walk'd in her sleep. When I enter'd the breakfast-room, smiling and roads were uncommonly bad, went to pay a visit to hearty. Assembled I found the whole family party: With, a person of quality in the neighbourhood, when his coach was overturned in a slough, and the servants were unable to extricate the carriage. As it was far How did you rest, Sir?" and, "what did from any house, and the weather bad, the coachman you see?" Said I, "Ere I speak of this wonderful thing, mislaid?" "Mislaid,” said I, laughing, “where Miss lay herself; While Emily tried her confusion to smother. Then frankly related my whimsical tale. | freely told his master he believed they must stay there all night, "for," said he, "while your grace is pre sent, I cannot make the horses move." Astonished at this strange reason, his lordship desired him to explain himself: "It is," said he, "because I dare not swear in your presence: and, if I don't, we shall never get clear." The bishop finding nothing could be done if the servant was not humoured, replied, "Well, then, swear a little, but not much." The coachman made use of his permission, and the horses, used to such a kind of dialect, soon set the coach at liberty. THREE BLACK CROWS. pre-Two honest tradesmen, meeting in the Strand, All laugh'd, and declar'd I the secret must keep, " At length our good uncle observ'd, with a smile, Reply'd his friend-"No! I'am surpris'd at that; Whose cheek with the pure blush of modesty burn dI Your affectionate brother. SWEARING AND DRIVING. From whose, I pray ?"-So having named the man, But, by the by, 'twas two black crows, not three.” A bishop being at his seat in the country where the Tho' in regard to number, not exact; It was not two black crows, 'twas only one, The truth of that you may depend upon; The gentleman himself told me the case VOLTAIRE AND HIS BOOKSELLER. At the rehearsal of one of Voltaire's tragedies, as Mr. Cramer, a bookseller at Geneva, was finishing "Where may I find him ?"—"Why, in such a place." his part, which was to end with some dying sentences, Away goes he, and having found him out, Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt”— Then to his last informant he referr'd, And begg'd to know if true what he had heard: Did you, Sir, throw up a black crow ?"-" Not I"Bless me! how people propagate a lie! Black crows have been thrown up, three, two, and one: Crow-crow-perhaps I might; now I recall The matter over.' Voltaire cried out aloud-" Cramer, you lived like a prince in the four preceding acts, but in the fifth you die like a bookseller." A medical gentleman present, could not help interfering; with, "Why, Mons. de Voltaire, can you expect gentlemen to be at the expense of dresses, and the fatigue of getting up such long parts, if you thus upbraid them? On the contrary, I think they all deserve the greatest encouragement at your hands; and as to my friend Cramer, I declare, that, as far as I am a judge, he dies with the same dignity as he lived." Voltaire, ."-" And, pray, Sir, what was't?"-who detested advice or information, made this cool Why I was horrid sick, and, at the last, answer; Prithee, doctor, when you have got kings I did throw up, and told my neighbour so, to kill, kill them in your own way; but let me kill Smething that was-as black, Sir, as a crow." mine as I please." DEGREES OF INEBRIETY. As drunk as an owl, as drunk as a sow, as drunk as a beggar, as drunk as the devil, as drunk as a lord. These are the principal comparisons of drunkenness, and the explanation is as follows: a man is as drunk as an owl, when he cannot see; he is as drunk as a beggar, when he is very impudent; he is as drunk as the devil, when he is inclined to mischief; and as drunk as a lord, when he is every thing that is bad. CURIOUS EPITAPHS. In a church-yard, in Sussex, is the following epitaph: Here lie two children dear, One buried at Portsea, the other here. This is only equalled by another in France: The mayor of a small provincial town having died on a Visit to the capital, where he was buried, his administrators put up a monument to him in his parish church, on which was engraved, "Ci-git Monsieur B***, qui a été enterré à Paris." Here lies Monsieur B***, who was buried at Paris! AN UNLUCKY CONFESSION who lived in Chelsea. After continuing his visits for A physician, who lived in London, attended a lady, some time, the lady expressed an apprehension that it might be inconvenient for him to come so far on her account. "Oh, Madam!" replied the doctor, "I have another patient in this neighbourhood, and by that means, you know, I kill two birds with one stone," "Doctor," replied the lady, you are too good a shot for me," and dispensed with his further attendance. EXTEMPORE On a gentleman with very thin legs. Sir, that you're brave you need not swear, The reason why I will disclose ; A coward heart would take more care, Than trust itself to legs like those. EPITAPH ON A WOMAN WHO NEVER HAD CHILDREN. Here lies the body of barren Peg, Who had no issue, but one in her leg; But while she was living, she was so cunning, That when one stood still, the other was running, CHARACTERS BY SAMUEL BUTLER, Author of Hudibras. A PLAY-WRITER excellently well to hide the pieceing and coarseness of a bad stuff, contributes mightily to the bulk, and makes the less serve by the many impertinencies it commonly requires to make away for it; for very few are endowed with abilities to bring it in on its own account. This he finds to be good husbandry, and a kind of necessary thrift; for they that have but a little ought to make as much of it as they can. His prologue, which is commonly none of his own, is always better than his play; like a piece of cloth that's fine in the beginning, and coarse afterwards; though it has but one topic, and that's the same that is used by malefactors when they are to be tried, to except against as many of the jury as they can. BUTLER'S CHARACTER OF A NEWSMONGER. A newsmonger is a retailer of rumour, that takes up upon trust, and sells as cheap as he buys. He deals in a commodity, that will not keep: for if it be not fresh it lies upon his hands, and will yield nothing. True or false is all one to him; for novelty being the grace of both, a truth grows stale as soon as a lie and as a slight suit will last as well as a better while the fashion holds, a lie serves as well as truth till new ones come up. He is little concerned whether it be good or bad, for that does not make it more or less news; and if there be any difference, he loves the bad best, because it is said to come soonest; for he would wil ingly bear his share in any public calamity Of our times is like a Fanatic, that has no wit in ordinary easy things, and yet attempts the hardest task of brains in the whole world, only because, whether his play or work please or displease, he is certain to come off better than he deserves, and find some of his own latitude to applaud him, which he could never expect any other way; and is as sure to lose no reputation, because he has none to venture. Like gaming rooks, that never stick To play for hundreds tick; upon 'Cause, if they chance to lose at play, Th'ave not one halfpenny to pay ; And, if they win a hundred pound, Gain, if for sixpence they compound. Nothing encourages him more in his undertaking than his ignorance, for he has not wit enough to understand so much as the difficulty of what he attempts; therefore he runs on boldly like a fool-hardy wit; and fortune, that favours fools and the bold, sometimes takes notice of him for his double capacity, and receives him into her good graces. He has one motive more, and that is the concurrent ignorant judgment of the present age, in which his sottish fop peries pass with applause, like Oliver Cromwell's oratory among fanatics of his own canting inclina-to have the pleasure of hearing and telling it. He is tion. He finds it easier to write in rhyme than prose; deeply read in diurnals, and can give as good an ac for the world being overcharged with romances, he count of Rowland Pepin, if need be, as another man. finds his plots, passions, and repartees, ready made He tells news, as men do money, with his fingers; to his hand; and if he can but turn them into rhyme, for he assures them it comes from very good hands. the thievery is disguised, and they pass for his own The whole business of his life is like that of a spaniel, wit and invention without question; like a stolen to fetch and carry news; and when he does it well cloak made into a coat, or dyed into another colour. he is clapt on the back, and fed for it: for he does Besides this he makes no conscience of stealing any not take to it altogether like a gentleman, for his thing that lights in his way, and borrows the advice pleasure; but when he lights on a considerable of so many to correct, enlarge, and amend, what he parcel of news, he knows where to put it off for a has ill-favouredly patched together, that it becomes dinner, and quarter himself upon it, until he has like a thing drawn by council, and none of his own eaten it out; and by this means he drives a trade, performance, or the son that has no certain father. by retrieving the first news to truck it for the first He has very great reason to prefer verse before prose meat in season; and, like the old Roman luxury, in his compositions; for rhyme is like lace, that serves | ransacks all seas and lands to please his palate; for he imports his narratives from all parts within the geography of a diurnal, and eats as well upon the Russ and Polander, as the English and Dutch. By this means his belly is provided for, and nothing lies upon his hands but his back, which takes other courses to maintain itself by weft and stray silver spoons, straggling hoods and scarfs, pimping, and sets at l'ombre. BUTLER'S CHARACTER OF A TAILOR. A taylor came in with the curse; and is younger brother to thorns, thistles, and death; for if Adam had not fallen, he had never sat cross-legged. Sin and be are partners; for as sin first brought him into employment, so he by cheating and contributing to pride and vanity, works to sin, and the old trade is still kept up between both. Our Saviour wore his coat without seam, rather than he would have any thing to do with him; and Elias, when he went to Heaven, left his mantle behind, because it had been polluted by his fingers. The Jews in all great calamities were wont to rend their garments, only to testify that they defied him and all his works. All men love and admire cloaths, but scorn and despise him that made them, as princes approve of treason, but hate traitors. He sits cross-legged to show that he was originally a Turk, and calls himself MerchantTaylor upon no other account, but only as he descended from Mahomet, who was a merchant's prentice himself in his youth. And his constant custom of making the calves of his legs a stool to sit upon, has rendered him so stiff in the hams, that he walks as if he was newly circumcised, to distinguish himself from a Christian. He lives much more by his faith than good works; for he gains more by trusting and believing in one that pays him at long running, than six that he works for upon an even account for ready-money. He never cuts his coat according to his cloth; but always the more he is allowed the less he puts in a garment: and he believes he has reason for it; for he is fain to take double pains in contriving how to dispose both what he steals, and what he uses, to the best advantage, which costs him twice as much labour as that which he gets nothing by. He never cuts a man's cloaths but he cuts his purse into the bargain; and when he makes a pocket, takes handsel of it, and picks it first himself. He calls stealing damning, by a figure in rhetoric called the effect for the efficient; and the place where he lodges all his thievéries hell, to put him in mind of his latter end and what he steals by retail the broker takes off his hands by wholesale. He keeps his wife in taffety to save charges; for when her petticoats are worn out, they serve him to line vests with, as well as if they were new; and when he is unfurnished of these, old sattin and taffety-men supply him for ends of gold and silver. He gets more by the trimming and garniture of cleaths than all the rest; for he can swallow ribands like a juggler, and put whole pieces more in his bill than ever he made use of, and stretch lace, as a shoe-maker does leather, with his teeth, when he sets it on. The mercers are in fee with him to revive old rotten stuffs by giving them new fantastic names; and he brings them into the mode by swearing they are new come up: in consideration of which he is allowed to buy cheap and sell dear: for he is loath to undervalue his conscience, and put it off at a mean rate, as long as he sees his neighbours can make more of theirs-He scorns that. BUTLER'S CHARACTER OF A DEGENERATE NOBLE. A degenerate noble, or one that is proud of his birth, is like a turnip; there is nothing good of him but that which is under-ground; or rhubarb, a contemptible shrub, that springs from a noble root. He has no more title to the worth and virtue of his ancestors, than the worms that were engendered in their dead bodies; and yet he believes he has enough to exempt himself and his posterity from all things of that nature for ever. This makes him glory in the antiquity of his family, as if his nobility were the better the farther off it is in time, as well as desert, from that of his predecessors. He believes the honour that was left him, as well as the estate, is sufficient to support his quality, without troubling himself to purchase any more of his own; and he meddles as little with the management of the one as the other, |