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so high and mighty, she may find her own way down. What I she's afraid of spoiling her fine shawl, I reckon, though you and I remember Mrs. Hoggins, when her five-shilling Welsh-wittle was kept for Sunday's church, and good enough too, for we all know what her mother was. Good Heavens ! here comes Undertaker Croak, looking as down in the mouth as the root of my tongue; do let me get out of his way; I wouldn't sit next to him for a rump and dozen, he does tell such dismal stories that it quite gives one the blue devils, He is like a nightmare, isn't he Mr. Smart “He may be like a mare § night,” replied Mr. Smart, with a smirking chuckle, “but I consider him more like an ass by day—He he he s” Looking round for applause at this sally, he held out his elbows, and taking a lady, or rather a female, under each arm, he danced towards the hatchway, exclaiming, “Now I am ready trussed for table, liver under one wing and gizzard under the other.” “Keep a civil tongue in your head, Mr. Smart; I don't quite understand being called a liver—look at the sparks coming out of the chimney, I declare I’m frightened to death.” “Well, then you are of course no longer a liver,” resumed the facetious Mr. Smart; “so we may as well apply to Mr. Croak to bury you.” “O Gemini ! don’t talk so shocking ; I had rather never die at all, than have such a fellow as that, to bury me.” “Dickey, my dear!” cried Mrs. Cleaver to her son, who was leaning over the ship's side with a most woe-begone and emetical expression of countenance, “ hadn't you better come down to dinner There's a nice silver side of a round o'beef, and the chump end of a line o' mutton, besides a rare hock of bacon, which I dare say will settle your stomach.” “O mother,” replied the young cockney, “that 'ere cold beef steak and inguns vat you put in the pockethandkerchief, vasn't good, I do believe, for all m

binsides are of a work.” “Tell 'em it's a holiday,” cried Smart. “O dear, O dear!” continued Dick, whose usual brazen tone was subdued into a lackadaisical whine, “I want to reach and I can't—vat shall I do, mother?” “Stand on tiptoe, my darling,” replied Smart, imitating the voice of Mrs. Cleaver,

who began to take in high dudgeon this horse-play of her neighbour, and was proceeding to manifest her displeasure in ne very measured terms, when she was fortunately separated from her antagonist, and bone down the hatchway by the dinner-desiring crowd, though sundry echoes of the words “jackanapes!" and “imperent fellow t” continued audible above the confused gabble of the gangway. “Well, but Mr. Smart,” cried Mrs. Suet, as soon as she had satisfied the first cravings of her appetite, “you promised to tell me all about the steam, and explain what it is that makes them wheels go round and round as fast as those of our oue-horse chas, when Jem Ball drives the trotting mare.” “Why, ma'am, you must understand—” “Who called to sandwiches and a tumbler of negus 2" bawled the steward.—“Who called for savages and a tumblin:

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saw the machinery, I believe—(capital boiled beef, there's a thing goes up and a thing goes down, ill made of iron; well, that's the hydrostatic principle; then you put into the boiler—(a nice leg of mutter, Mrs. Sweetbread)—let me see, where was I?—In the boiler, I believe. Ah! it's an old trick cf mine to be getting into hot water. So, ma'am, you set they turn all the smoke that comes from the fire or to the wheels, and that makes them spin round, just as the smoke-jack in our chimnies turns the spit; and then there's the safety-valve in case of danger,

which lets all the water into the fire, and so puts cut

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Here the company were alarmed by a tertified

The LAUGHING Philosophie R.

on fom Mr. Croak, who ejaculated, “Heaven * mercy upon us! did you hear that whizzing £o-there it is again there's something wrong "the boiler—if it bursts, we shall all be in heaven five minutes.” “The Lord forbid!" ejaculated or three voices, while others began to scream, ** were preparing to quit their places, when the *"ard informed them it was nothing in the world ","he spare steam which they were letting off. Ah, so they alw ays say,” resumed Croak, with an *ulous tone and wóe-begone look; “but it was !" the same on board the American steam-boat that was telling you of fifty-two souls sitting at dinner, hushing and chatting for all the world as we are "", when there comes a whiz, such as we heard a "ole ago–God help us! there it is once more—and o "p blew the boiler—fourteen people scalded to o large pieces of their flesh found upon the ... 5 of the river, and a little finger picked up next kn " an oyster-shell, which by the ring upon it was """ to be the captain's. But don't be alarmed, ** and gentlemen, I dare say we shall escape any o: as we're all in the cabin, and so we shall o so to the bottom smack! Indeed we may arrive “They do sometimes, and I wish we may now, loyes a party of pleasure more than I do.

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Jrted S - - ...”* chuckling at his having the best of the

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“Well,” exclaimed Mrs. Sweetbread, “I never tasted such beer as this—flat as ditch-water, they should have put it upon the cullender to let the water run out ; ...' yet you have been drinking it, Smart, and never said any thing about it.” “Madam,” replied the party thus addressed, laying his hand upon his heart, and looking very serious, “I make it a rule never to speak ill of the dead. I am eating the ham, you see, and yet it would be much better, if I were to let it exemplify one of Shakspeare's soliloquies— Ham-let alone.” “La you're such a wag,” cried Mrs. Hoggins, “there's no being up to you; but if you don't like the ham, take a slice of this edge-bone —nothing's better than cold beef.” “I beg your pardon, Madam,” replied the indefatigable joker— “cold beef's better than nothing—Ha! has hal”

“How do you find yourself now, my darling?” said Mrs. Cleaver to her son, who had been driven below by a shower, and kept his hat on because, as he said, his 'air was quite vet. “Vy, mother, I have been as sick as a cat, but I'm bang up now, and so peckish that I feel as if I could heat anything.” “Then just warm these potatoes,” said Smart, handing him the dish, “for they are almost cold.” “I’ll thank you not to run your rigs upon me,” quoth the young cockney, looking glumpish, “ or I shall fetch you a vipe with this here hash-stick. If one gives you a hinch, you take a hell.” “Never mind him, my dear,” cried his mother “eat this mutton-chop, it will do you good; there's no gravy, for Mr. Smart has all the sauce to himself. Haw haw haw ("— “Very good!” exclaimed the latter, clapping his hands, “egad! Ma'am, you are as good a wag as your own double chin.” This was only ventured in a low tone of voice, and as the fat dame was at that moment handing the plate to her son, it was fortunately unheard. Dick being still rather giddy, cono to let the chop fall upon the floor, an occurrence at which Mr. Smart declared he was not in the least surprised, as the young man, when first he came into the cabin, looked uncommonly chop-fallen. Dick, however, had presently taken a place at the

table, and began attacking a buttock of beef with

i. vigour and vivacity, protesting he had got a amous “happetite,” and felt “as ungry as an ound.” “I never say any thing to discourage any body,” said Mr. Croak, “particularly young people ; it's a thing I hate, but t'other day a fine lad sate down to his dinner in this very packet, after being sea-sick, just as you may be doing now, when it turned out he had broke a blood-vessel, and in twelve hours he was a corpse, and a very pretty one he made.” “I'm not going to be choused out of my dinner for all that,” replied the youth, munching away with great industry, and at the same time calling out— “Steward, take away this porter-pot, it runs.”—“I doubt that,” cried Smart.—” I say it does,” resumed Dick angrily, “the table-cloth is all of a sop.”— “I’ll bet you half a crown it doesn't.” Donel and done were hastily exchanged, when Mr. Smart, looking round with a smirk, exclaimed—“Ladies and Gentlemen, I appeal to every one of you whether the pot has not been perfectly still, and nothing has been running but the beer.” This elicited a shout at poor Dick's expense, who sullenly muttered, “I’m not going to be bamboozled out of an 'alf-crown in that there way, and vat's more, I won't be made a standing joke by no man.” “I don't see how you can,” replied his antagonist, “so long as you are sitting.” —“Vy are you like a case of ketchup "cried Dick, venturing for once to become the assailant, and immediately replying to his own inquiry, “because you are a saucebox.”—“Hawl haw'” roared his mother, “bravo, Dick' well done, Dick—there's a proper rap for you, Mr. Smart.” Dick now changed the conversation, by observing that it would luckily be “’igh-water in the arbour when they arrived.”— “Then I recommend you by all means to use some of it.” said the pertinacious Mr. Smart, “perhaps it may cure your squint.” Both mother and son rose up in wrath at this personality, and there would infallibly have been a bourrasque (as the French say) in the hold, but that there was then a tremendous concussion upon the deck, occasioned by the fall of the main boom, and followed by squeaks and screams, of all calibres, from

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The odds at any race or match; Was a dead hand at pigeon-shooting; Could kick up rows—knock down the watch— Play truant and the rake at random— Drink—tie cravats—and drive a tandem. Remonstrance, fine, and rustication, So far from working reformation, Seem'd but to make his lapses greater, Till he was warn'd that next offence Would have this certain consequence— Expulsion from his Alma Mater. One need not be a necromancer To guess that, with so wild a wight, The next offence occurr'd next night; When our Incurable came rolling Home as the inidnight chimes were tolling, And rang the College bell.—No answer.— The second peal was vain—the third Made the street echo its alarum; When to his great delight he heard The sordid Janitor, old Ben, Itousing and glowling in his den. “Who’s there ! I spose young Harum-scarum.” “'Tis I, my worthy Ben—'tis Harry.” “Ay, so I thought, and there you'll tarry. 'Tis past the hour—the gates are closed, You know my orders—I shall lose My place if I undo the door.”— “And I"—(young Hopeful interposed) “Shall be expell'd if you refuse, So prithee;-Ben began to snore.— “I'm wet,” cried Harry, “to the skin, Hip ! hallo Ben —don't be a ninny ; Beneath the gate I've thrust a guinea, So tumble out and let me in,” “ Humph!” growl'd the greedy old curmudgeon, Half overjoy'd and half in dudgeon, “Now you may pass; but make no fuss, On tiptoe walk, and hold your prate."— “Look on the stones, old Cerberus,” Cried Harry as he passed the gate, “I’ve dropp'd a shilling—take the light, You'll find it just outside--good night.”

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DEFINItion of wir.

A certain bishop said to his chaplain: “What is wit?” The chaplain replied, “The rectory of A.... is vacant, give it to me, and that will be wit.” “Prove it,” said his lordship, “and you shall have it.” “It would be a good thing well applied,” rejoined the chaplain. The dinner daily prepared for the royal chaplains at St. James's was reprieved, for a time, from suspension, by an effort of wit. King Charles had appointed a day for dining with his chaplains; and it was understood that this step was adopted as the least unpalutable mode of putting an end to the dinner. It was Dr. South's turn to say the grace: and whenever the king honoured his chaplains with his presence, the prescribed formula ran thus: “God save the king, and bless the dinner.” Our witty divine took the liberty of transposing the words, by saying, “God bless the king, and save the dinner.” “And it shall be saved,” said the monarch.

The blaze of wit in the School for Scandal astonishes us less when we remember that the writer had it in his power to frame both the question and the answer; the reply and the rejoinder; the time and the place. He must be a poor proficient, who cannot keep up the game, when both the ball, the wall, and the racket, are at his sole command.

e

- N ELSON S v ANITY. Nelson, when young, was piqued at not being noticed, in a certain paragraph of the newspapers, which detailed an action, wherein he had assisted ; “But never mind,” said he, “I will one day have a Gazette of my own.”

Prologue to The winter's TALE, AND cArif Erl Nr.; a ND PET RU chro.

To various things the stage has been compar'd,
As apt ideas strike each humorous bard:
This night, for want of better simule,
Let this our theatre a tavern be :
The poets vintners, and waiters we.
So, as the cant and custom of the trade is,
You're welcome, gem'inen, kindly welcome ladies,

To draw in customers, our bills are spread;
You cannot miss the sign, 'tis Shakspeare's Head.
From this same head, this fountain-head divine,
For different palates springs a different wine;
In which no tricks to strengthen or to thin 'em-
Neat as imported—no French brandy in 'em-
Hence for the choicest spirits flows Champagne,
Whose sparkling atoms shoot thro’ every vein, , .
Then mount in magic vapours to th’ enraptur'd brain"
IIence flow for martial minds potations strong,
And sweet love-potions for the fair and young:
For you my hearts of oak, for your regale,

[To the upper gallery. There's good old English stingo, mild and stale.

For high, luxurious souls, with luscious smack,
There's Sir John Falstaff in a butt of sack;
And if the stronger liquors more invite ye,
Bardolph is gin, and Pistol aqua vitae.
But should you call for Falstaff, where to find him,
He's gone—nor left one cup of sack behind him.
Sunk in his elbow chair, no more he'll roam,
No more with merry wags to Eastcheap come;
He's gone—to jest and laugh, and give us sack at
home.
As for the learned critics, grave and deep,
Who catch at words, and catching fall asleep;
Who in the storms of passion, hum and haw
For such our master will no liquor draw
So blindly thoughtful, and so darkly read,
They take Tom Durfey's for the Shakspeare's Head.
A vintner once acquir'd both praise and gain,
And sold much Perry for the best Champagne.
Some rakes this precious stuff did so allure,
They drank whole nights—what's that—when wide
is pure ? -
“Come, fill a bumper, Jack.”—“I will, my Lord.”-
“Here's cream 1–damn'd fine !—immense!—upo.
my word' -
Sir William, what say you?”—“The best, believe
me.” -
“ In this—eh, Jack?—the devil can't deceive me."
Thus the wise critic too, mistakes his wine;

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