1 quite agreed with the astonished expression of his eyes at the top of his head. He caressed with complacency two watch chains that hung at his waist-band, and every word he spoke was listened to attentively; he believed himself seducing and witty, having all the self-sufficiency of folly supported by riches; in fine, he was a bachelor of great importance to all who had daughters to marry. The day is fine, and the pic-nic prospers by favour of the relaxed severity of Madame Moutonnet. The first thing proposed upon entering the wood is a game at hide and seek. Eugenie Moutonnet and Adolphe Dalville have some time regarded each other with an eye of inclination, though the vigilance and austerity of the lady's mother have prevented any familiar intercourse. The opportunities of hide and seek however enable them to avow a mutual passion, and swear eternal constancy. After dinner, during which Madam Moutonnet is incensed against her husband for attempting to carve a fowl, and quarrels with the toyman's wife who assists him, the younger part of the company join a village dance. The spirited toyman, something exalted by drinking, provokes the villagers to thrash him. This unpleasant circumstance draws upon him the displeasure of Madame Moutonnet, already angered against his wife, and she is at last enraged to that degree, that a total breach takes place between the families. A storm separates the remaining company into two parties, and the Moutonnet family with young Dalville seek shelter in a coffee-house. Adolphe goes out to find a coach, and Bidois is sent out soon after to assist in the search; Dalville, however, with great zeal, succeeds in finding one first, and he and the Moutonnets leave the inn, without waiting for Bidois, and, to the great chagrin of the coffee-house keeper, without taking anything; for Madame Moutonnet thought it would be superfluous to do so. Meantime Bidois returns unsuccessful, sheltered, as to his head, by one of the empty baskets. dinner he had manoeuvred so skilfully as to achieve the loss of the other with some bottles, part of the remains of dinner. Some turkey, and other broken viands are in his pockets, for Madame Moutonnet would have nothing left behind if she knew it. "Where are my friends?" said he, replacing the basket under his arm. After "They went away in a coach," said the master of the coffeehouse, with a sneer. "Gone in a coach! without me?" "They called you. Is not your name Belloie?" "Bidois, if you please." "Bidois, Belloie,-it's the same thing." "No, sir, it's a very different thing." "Well, however, they have gone without you, finding you did not come back." "Gone without me!-let me return on foot in such weather, when I have broken my back all day with carrying their dinners! Madame Bernard was right in calling Madame Moutonnet a tyrant!" 66 They can't have got far," said the coffee-house keeper, "and if you run, I daresay you will catch them at the barrier; it was a yellow coach." "Do you think so. Let us see." And Bidois ran out of the coffee-house. 66 At length, having passed the barrier, the old clerk sees a hackney coach. "I see it!" he cried, "I shall have some rest now; keep it up!" the sight of the coach redoubles his vigour. He jumps forward, running hap-hazard among the brooks and marshes into which the road-way turned, to the great detriment of his stockings. He overtakes the coach! and it is a yellow one. Stop, stop!'' cried Bidois, running by the side of the coach, in a voice choked with exhaustion. The coachman thinking some one was making game of him, paid no attention. "Will you stop!" cried Bidois, again; "you have got some people who were waiting for me, and I will give you something to drink." "Ah! that's another thing-if they are your acquaintance-' said the coachman, stopping his horses; "so get up, master." Bidois did not want this invitation repeated; directly the coach stopped, he ran and opened the door. A cry issued from within. "Ah! it is my husband!" said a strange voice. "Her husband!” cried a man; "quick, let us be off!" The opposite door is opened, and the gentleman fled, leaving behind him his hat; while the lady saved herself at the expense of her shawl, her gloves, and her handkerchief, leaving Bidois dismayed upon the steps. "Hallo! what does this mean, old fellow?" cried the coachman, surprised to see his passengers off in such a hurry. "Hey! Parbleu!" responded Bidois, "it means that bad luck follows me every where. I was mistaken, your passengers were none of my friends." "Oh, very well! you're a pretty humbug to play me such a game as this." "How do you mean? humbug! do you think I did it for the pleasure of it." "Indeed I do, my man. But, you see, it can't pass in this way. You have frightened the two fares I was carrying, so that they have taken to their heels; but I can't do without my money. It's no use your speaking; I took them up at the pavilion Français, and as that is outside the barrier, they were to give me a dollar; so, now then, you must give me a dollar." "I give you a dollar?" Yes, my fine fellow, if it's agreeable t' ye." "Nonsense! you are joking. Why should I pay the fare for people I know nothing about?" "We are not talking about whys and wherefores, you have made my passengers run away, a! you must pay me my fare, or we shall see.' The coachman, fearing that Bidois would run away, too, jumped from his box; but the old clerk had no strength left for running, and he quietly suffered himself to be seized by the "But," said Bidois, to the coachman, for they have left some things in the coach." "Do you take me for a pickpocket? I shall go and give those up to the prefecture." "I'll undertake that no one will come to reclaim them." That's no business of mine. What right have you to put people out in this way with your basket cap? I don't wonder you frightened them; they must have taken you for some scoundrel." There was a general laugh at the piteous appearance of Bidois when he heard himself condemned to pay. In rummaging his pocket for his purse, he let fall the remains of the turkey, which he had taken from the basket when he put it on his head. This added to the gaiety of the bystanders. It seems the gentleman does not lose anything when he dines at the eating house," said the clerk of the barrier, laughing. "Sir, that is my affair," said Bidois, peevishly, putting the bird back into his pocket, "don't you go and make me pay duty for this turkey's leg." "No, Sir, turkeys don't pay duty." "That's lucky. Come, coachman, if I pay, I hope at least I may ride." "That's all fair." "Where were you taking that gentleman and lady to ?" "I was to set them down at the Boulevard du Temple.' Very well; you shall set me down at the Porte St. Martin." "That will do, come along.' They leave the barrier to go to the coach. It still rained, and Bidois said to himself, "At least, if I do pay dear for it, I can stretch myself at my case, and sleep to the Port St. Martin." Poor Bidois! It was doubtless written in the book of fate that he was not to reach Paris in a coach. Before they had got to where the coach stood, four officers, quicker than the old clerk, came up, opened the door of the coach, and jumped in, exclaiming, 66 At last we have found one! this is not bad!” "What's the matter now," cried Bidois, running to the door, "they have found one, have they? Very pretty, upon my honour,-stop a moment-gentlemen, gentlemen,'-getting on the steps, "this coach has been waiting here an hour for me." "I have no pence, old man," said one of the officers, taking Bidois for the waterman; which was excusable, seeing how the storm had deranged his dress. "Another time," and he pushed him away roughly, shutting the door. "One moment, gentlemen! What do you take me for," cried Bidois, trying to seize the door; "I am a citizen of Paris; I have engaged this coach, and I have paid for it, and it is mine; you cannot take it." "You see we can, for we are in it." " gentlemen. The coachman enchanted to have got another fare contented himself with mounting his box without answering poor Bidois, who ran backwards and forwards from the coachman to the door. "This old fool will stun us with his noise," said one of the officers. "Gentlemen, you must get out of my coach." "What, give up the coach to you? My fine fellow, if I do go out, it will be to crop your ears. Come, coachman, we are in a hurry, and can't stay listening to this drunken fellow!" "All right, sir." And the coachman applied the whip to his cattle. Bidois went and sat down on a post, viewing with an air of consternation, the coach which had taken his dollar, and left him in the middle of the street. At last he got home, and went to bed without a light, lest in getting one he should be stopped by Madame Moutonnet, still to do something more. (To be continued in our next.) THE VANITY OF LIFE. "We all do fade as a leaf." See the leaves around us falling, Dry and wither'd, to the ground; "Sons of Adam, once in Eden, See the end of all your care; Brings us down to parent earth. Learned sophs! in systems jaded, Youths though yet no losses grieve you, Hither turn th' unwilling eye; On the Tree of Life Eternal, Man, let all thy hopes be staid, Which, alone, for ever vernal, Bears a leaf that ne'er shall fade." KENILWORTH CASTLE.-Here, for the first time in my life, says the Rev. Henry Beecher, I felt the presence of a venerable ruined castle! At first I did not wish to go within the walls which enclosed the grounds, and so strolled a little way along the outside. I cannot tell what a stange mingling of imagination, and thoughts, and emotions, took possession of me. At length I entered. With a little plan of the building I traced the rooms from point to point-the great banqueting hall, the scene of wondrous festivities which shall never again disturb its silence, being the most perfectly preserved of any apartment. I was surprised to find how much I knew of Kenilworth Castle. Had one asked me as I rode hither, I should have replied that I knew only that it was old and famous, that it was by Scott wrought into one of his most successful novels. But as I sat in a room, upon a fallen stone, one incident after another from the novel, and from history, came to me, one name after another, until I seemed to be visiting an old and familiar place. And now I am sitting in what was, in its days of glory, the Inner Court, and leaning against Leicester's buildings. Before me is Cæsar's tower-the oldest, the most massive, and the best preserved of any part. It was old a thousand years ago. Masses of ivy cover its recessed angles and its corners. Through its arched windows, where the walls are more than ten feet thick,-yea, sixteen feet, as my book says,-I see trees and a tangled mass of growing vines, rooted upon the ruins that have fallen and enclosed by the walls of its former halls. Through the square windows above, I see fleecy clouds sailing lazily in the air. In what was the "three Kitchens" are growing old butternut trees and haws. The banquetting hall, whose side presented four beautiful windows, has but two of them in a tolerable state of preservation; and projecting fragments show in outline where the others were. I stood in the windows opposite these, where Elizabeth, and hundreds of fairer and better women than she, looked out upon the lake and orchard. But how different were my thoughts and theirs; the scene which they admired and that which I beheld! From beneath these crumbled ruins too, utterly forgotten now, except of God, shall rise many forms to stand with me in judgment. TRAVELLING.-Dr. Robertson, in his "Popular Treatise on Diet and Regimen," makes the following useful observations regarding the effects of travelling on the health :-"The change of air which, in cases of comparative health, I would especially advise, is that embraced in moving from place to place, taking as much personal exercise as possible. To taste all the pleasures which the best and most healthy of all kinds of travelling affords, you need not leave your native land. It is this sort of travelling (walking on foot, as far as is possible or convenient); this total removal from ordinary and every-day habits; this constant exercise; this continual change of air, which does most good; that, if the man is in moderate health, gives vigour to his system, freedom to his limbs, and clearness to his mind, which will, like magic, uproot many a case of long continued dyspepsia, and cause many a chronic disease, threatening to degenerate into something worse, to be no longer felt. Change of air may be too great; but it cannot be too frequent, if the powers of the system are not materially impaired. Travelling, and especially pedestrian travelling, presents, among its many other points of excellence, this in a remarkable degree. It acts directly on the mind as well as ca the body. I am satisfied that if the measure were tried in cases of hypochondriacism, in cases of incipient insanity, many a one would be restored to his reason, his family, and his friends. The effect of such travelling cannot be sufficiently estimated. It would enable many an invalid, at a cheap rate, to show "clean bills of health." I think that few will say the prescription is not palatable.' 66 BARGAIN-MAKING OF THE AMERICANS.-On this subject, a Scottish correspondent, settled in New York, thus writes:told me I should not succeed in business; the natives were so much more adroit and acute than foreigners, that there is no chance for the latter except as farmers. From my own observation, I thought this as wide of the mark as could be. To me foreigners seem the most expert of the two, by fifty per cent. The American is wonderfully shrewd, and sees the best side of a bargain at a glance. But there is a clumsiness about his manoeuvres that foils his dexterity. Your practised Scot, again, never displays his weapons, shows no fence till the acual tug of war takes place; hence he is more cool, dexterous, and adroit, than the vapouring Yankee, and foils him even with his own weapons. An American must boast of his smartness at driving a bargain he must boast of his day's gains, and how much he made by such a transaction. An Englishman will sometimes do so also. But catch Sanders bragging of his gains. You might as soon expect to find a poetaster despising praise, or a beggar a bawbee." BEAUTIFUL THEMES.-Poetry is ever tuning her lyre and singing of that beautiful state to which the human race is ca pable of rising. Hope is ever pointing her telescope to the better time coming. Religion is ever fostering the latent capabilities of sympathy and love which are firmly laid in the foundations of human nature, and opening up before them scenes of brightness and beauty, which stretch beyond the tomb. THE FAMILY MIRROR. NATURE'S REPOSITORY. THE MOCKING BIRD. THE MOCKING BIRD. THIS bird inhabits America, from New England to Brazil, The female lays from four to five eggs, of an ash-blue colour, marked with patches of brown. She incubates fourteen days, and is extremely jealous of her nest, being very apt to desert it if much disturbed. During the period when the young are in the nest, neither cat, dog, nor man, can approach it without being attacked. When intended for the cage, they are either taken from the nest when they are very young, or at a later period by trap-cages. The colour of this little mimic is cinereous, paler beneath; but its modest apparel is amply compensated by the imitative ability it displays. ROOKS. Of their policy, social compact, and action in conthe most striking was the great war at Dallam Tower, in Westcert, instances sufficient to fill a volume might be given. One of moreland, between the herons and the rooks. The fine old oaks on which the herons had long built their nests fell before the sturdy stroke of the woodman, and the birds, unwilling to quit a spot selves upon the grove which had, for as long a period, been in occupied by them for ages, made an attempt to establish themthe tenure of the rooks. The war, obstinately contested as that At length in the Crimea, raged for two years, with various successes on both sides, though, upon the whole, the herons had the best of the battles fought during the two successive seasons. a sort of conference took place, and a peace was patched up between the combatants. A boundary line was established, and the herons set up their rest on one portion of the now only resame concert is made manifest when a new colony of rooks inmaining grove, leaving the other moiety to the rooks. The vade an ancient rookery. Great wrath is manifested against the squatters, and not unfrequently the master of the house aids his rooks in resisting the attempts of the invaders. Not that we are quite satisfied that this is good policy; for it has passed into a country proverb, that when rooks leave a place for another, the land will sooner or later follow. A friend, who bought an estate rooks came and built in some high elms which stood on the then in a western county, found it without rooks. Soon afterwards, boundary of his land. These trees overhung the neighbouring property, and the tenant, who was one of those wise wrongheads who consider rooks destructive, continually popped powder at them till he banished them. They seemed, however, instinctively to know that the owner of the trees was their friend, and they crossed the river which flows through his pleasant grounds to another spot, where they have flourished under his auspices ever since. Where the popper is, who knows? All we know is, that the land from which he popped is now the property of our friend, their protector. Besides their sentinels, it is pretty certain that they have scouts which report to the main body. When a flight of locusts settled down at Craven in such numbers as to create serious alarm in the minds of the farmers, their anxiety was soon relieved by the rooks which continued to arrive from all quarters till they numbered thousands and tens of thousands. Great was the locust slaughter, and the destroyers were destroyed. Again, not many years since, a plague of caterpillars broke out upon Skiddaw, leaving the forehead of the mountain bare of vegetation, and the neighbours began to fear for the crops on the enclosed lands. But the rooks had been warned, and soon came, from far and near, to the rescue. In a very short time the insect ravages were stopped. These birds may be considered --notwithstanding their depredations, which are as dust in the balance the great vegetable protectors of our land. They who interfere with the police of nature soon have cause to repent their stupid meddling. When the Devon farmers and proprietors, in their truculent wisdom, set a price upon the heads of the rooks, they found, after a time, that they had not only less money in their pockets, but little or no harvest. For three successive years the crops failed, and the wiseacres were forced to import rooks and other insectivorous birds, and so re-stock their farms with protectors. Some years since a similar experiment, as cruel as it was absurd, was made in a northern county, the rooks being prescribed, and with similar success. To save their crops the farmers were obliged to reinstate the rooks. The experiment and its consequences-are they not facetiously written in the book of James Stuart Menteath, of Closeburn, Esquire ? DOMESTIC UTILITIES. SMOKY CHIMNEYS. THE common causes of smoky chimneys are, either that the wind is too much let in above at the mouth of the shaft, or else that the smoke is stifled below; they may also proceed from there being too little room in the vent, particularly where several open into the same funnel. The situation of the house may likewise affect them, especially if backed by higher ground or higher buildings. The best method of cure is to carry from the air a pipe under the floor, and opening under the fire; or when higher objects are the cause, to fix a moveable cowl at the 1op of the chimney. In regard to smoky chimneys, a few facts and cautions may be useful; and a very simple remedy may often render the calling in of masons and bricklayers unnecessary. Observe that a northern aspect often produces a smoky chimney. A single chimney is apter to smoke, than when it forms part of the stack. Straight funnels seldom draw well. Large fire-places are apt to smoke, particularly when the aperture of the funnel does not correspond in size; for this a temporary remedy may be found in opening a door or window-a permanent cure by diminishing the lower aperture. When a smoky chimney is so incorrigible as to require a constant admission of fresh air into the room, the best mode is to introduce a pipe, one of whose apertures shall be in the open air, and the other under the grate; or openings may be made near the top of the apartment, if lofty without any inconvenience even to persons sitting close by the fire. This species of artificial ventilation will always be found necessary for comfort, where gas is used internally, whether a fire is lighted or not. Where a chimney only smokes when a fire is first lighted, this may be guarded against by allowing the fire to kindle gradually; or more promptly by laying any inflammable substance such as shavings, on the top of the grate; the rapid combustion of which will warm the air in the chimney, and give it a tendency upwards, before any smoke is produced from the fire itself. If old stove grates are apt to smoke, they may be improved by setting the stove further back. If that fails contract the lower orifice. In cottages, the shortness of the funnel or chimney may produce smoke; in which case the lower orifice must be contracted as small as possible by means of an upright register. If a kitchen chimney overpowers that of the parlour, as is often the case in small houses, apply to each chimney a free admission of air, until the When a chimney is filled with smoke, not of its own formation, but from the funnel next to it, an easy remedy offers in covering each funnel with a conical top, or earthen crock, not cylindrical, but a frustrum of a cone; by means of which, the two openings are separated a few inches, and the cold air, or the gusts of wind no longer force the smoke down with them. If these remedies fail, it will be generally found, that the chimney only smokes when the wind is in a particular quarter, evil ceases. connected with the position of some higher building or a hill or a grove of trees. In such cases the common turncap, as made by tinmen and ironmongers, will generally be found fully adequate to the end proposed. A case has occurred of curing a smoky chimney exposed to the N. W. wind, and commanded by a lofty building on the S. E. by the following contrivance; a painted tin cap, of a conical form, was suspended by a ring and swivel, so as to swing over the mouth of the chimney pot, by means of an arched strap or bar of iron nailed on each side of the chimney. When a gust of wind laid this cap (which, from its resemblance in form and use to an umbrella, is called a parapet or wind guard) close to the pot on one side, it opened a wider passage for the escape of the smoke on the opposite side, whichever way the wind came; while rain, hail, &c. were effectually prevented from descending the flue. THE CABINET. JEWISH PROVERB.-Jews, says a proverb, ruin themselves at their Passover; Moors, at their marriages; and Christians in their lawsuits. FRUGALITY.-Frugality may be termed the daughter of prudence, the sister of temperance, and the parent of liberty. He that is extravagant will quickly become poor, and poverty will enforce dependence, and invite corruption. MEN AND WOMEN.-Men are like bugles, the more brass they contain, the further you can hear them. Women are like flowers --the more modest and retiring the better you love them. WEALTH.-Gross and vulgar minds will always pay a higher respect to wealth than to talent, for wealth, although it be a far less efficient power than talent, happens to be far more intelligible: human foresight often leaves its proudest possessor only a choice of evils. PRINTING, PULPITS, AND PETTICOATS.-These are the three great levers that govern the world. Without them the bottom would fall out, and society would become a chaos again. The press makes people patriotic, the pulpit religious, but petticoats sway all things. HUMILITY.-Humility is the most excellent natural cure for anger in the world, for he that by daily considering his own infirmities and failings, makes the errors of his neighbour or servant to be his own care, will not be likely to rage at the levities or indiscretions of other men. WOMAN'S LAUGH.-A woman has no natural grace more be witching than a sweet laugh. It is like the sound of flutes on the water. It leaps from her heart in a clear, sparkling rill, and the heart that hears it feels as if bathed in the cool exhilarating spring. GOOD NATURE AND BENEVOLENCE.-Good nature is not usually reckoned among the Christian virtues. But it is the nurse of them all. Sunshine is neither a fruit nor a flower, but it is the parent of both. What is good nature but benevolence? It bears the same relation to religious benevolence which common sense does to genius. ADVERSITY AND PROSPERITY.-The man who has never known adversity is but half acquainted with others, or with himself; constant success shows us but one side of the world, for as it surrounds us with friends who will tell us only of our merits, so it silences those enemies from whom alone we can learn our defects. TESTAMENTARY CHARITIES.-God is pleased with a living sacrifice; but the offerings of the dead, such as testamentary charities, which are intended to have no effect as long as we live, are no better than dead sacrifices, and it may be questioned whether they will be brought into the account of our lives if we do no good while we are living. These death-bed charities are too like a death-bed repentance-men seem to give their estates to God and the poor, just as they part with their sins, when they can keep them no longer. ENGLAND. The more we study England, says the Paris Constitutionel, the greater is our admiration for her perspicacity, resolution, and consequence in commercial matters. This is the noble side of that nation, and it must be confessed that, in this respect, no other country can equal it. There is likewise great activity and an endless power of resources in the Americans; but these qualities are spoiled by too great an impatience to attain wealth, and by two expansive a conscience. England advances majestically, with a firm and upright step, in her extraordinary career. THE FAMILY MIRROR. DEFINITION OF MAN.-Man is an odd genius-made up of all "At ten a child, at twenty wild, At sixty good or never.' PUBLIC LIFE. It is our business carefully to cultivate in our minds, to rear to the utmost vigour and maturity every sort of generous and honest feeling that belongs to our nature. To bring the dispositions that are lovely in private life into the service and conduct of the commonwealth; so to be patriots as not to forget we are gentlemen. To cultivate friendships, and to incur eninities. To have both strong, but both selected; in the one, to be placable; in the other, immovable. To model our principles to our duties and situation. To be fully persuaded that all virtue which is impracticable is spurious. Public life is a situation of power and energy; he trespasses against his duty who sleeps upon his watch, as well as he that goes over to the enemy. RECIPES FOR HAPPINESS. To count five hundred before you venture to contradict your wife. To be careful, when you are asked for your advice, (especially by an Irishman,) how you give it. To praise every baby that is brought up to you for exhibition. To take twice of pudding, if you are told the mistress of the house has had a hand in the making of it. To decline in the politest manner being appointed arbitrator in any matrimonial quarrel. To mind your own business, or if you have no business, then, to make it your business to leave the business of others alone. To be cautious how you sit next to a lady of an uncertain age with green spectacles and inky fingers, and who shaves her hair to get up an intellectual forehead. To pay no visits to such persons as never return them, viz., to your lawyer, your pawnbroker, your physician, your magistrate, your commissioners in the court of bankruptcy or insolvency, much less your judge in any court, central criminal, county, common law, consistorial, chancery, or otherwise. To enter into a solemn vow not to read the debates in parlia ment. MINT OF HUMOUR. Does a man feel girlish when he makes a maiden speech? "I have no dependence on you," as the sailor said when he let go his hold of a rope and tumbled into the sea. A young lady who was urged to study French, replied, that she thought one tongue sufficient for any woman. The speaker who "took the floor" has been arrested for stealing lumber. This does him a deal of harm. When does a man sit down to a melancholy dessert ? When he sits down to wine (whine) and pipe. Thirteen objections were once given by a lady for declining a match-twelve of them being the suitor's twelve children, and the thirteenth the suitor himself. A philosopher, who married a vulgar but amiable girl, used to call his wife "Brown Sugar," because, he said, she was sweet but unrefined. Mr. Gripes, the usurer, to whom a sixpence always looked as large as a cartwheel, is in the habit of holding his breath while the tailor measures him, so that his garments will require less cloth. A prosy orator reproved Lord North for going to sleep during one of his speeches. "Pooh, pooh!" said the drowsy Premier, "the physician should never quarrel with the effect of his own medicine.' Sharp, but hardly complimentary.Mother: (making "who's that gentleeffort at a small surprise for her darling) man coming there, Nelly?" Nelly: "Dat no gen'lman, mar; dat's par." Dean Swift, on being asked what he thought the easiest and yet most difficult thing a man could do, replied, "to bolt a door." A worthy clergyman upon being asked why he did not venture to an election, at which the proceedings were very riotously conducted, and give his vote, replied, "I do not see why I should endanger my own poll to benefit another man's." A poor Irishman seeing a crowd of people approaching, asked, "what was the matter?" He was answered," a man "Oh," replied he, "I'll stop to see was going to be buried." paper, A joker, on reading the deaths in a Scotch that, for we carry them to be buried in our country." seeing the ages of a great many on the list to be eighty and upthe north-he wasn't over thirty, and hadn't money enough to wards, said he couldn't see how people afforded to live so long in hold out much longer. and "Fanny, don't you think Mr. Bold is a handsome He is homely man" "Oh, no! I can't endure his looks. "Well, he is fortunate at all events; for an old aunt "Indeed! is enough." has just died and left him fifty thousand pounds." come to recollect, there is a certain noble it true? Well, now air about him, and he has a fine eye-that can't be resisted. ' of the British soldier, according to French notions-drives his A granddaughter of Oliver Cromwell, who was remarkable for her vivacity and humour, being in company at some sarcastic remarks she had made, rudely said, to insult her, Tunbridge Wells, a gentleman, who had taken great offence at "I think, madam, you would hardly give yourself so many airs had you recollected that your grandfather was hanged." To which she instantly replied, "Yes, sir, but please to recollect that he was not hanged till after he was dead." In the new Free College, a few days ago, Dr. Guthrie told his friends that he was often annoyed and vexed beyond measure to find discourses of the ablest character murdered and massacred by a wretched delivery. Some ministers appeared to have a habit of emphasizing every third word or so; and he would tell them an anecdote which he had heard to illustrate the importance of correct reading. A minister once reading 1st Kings xiii. 13, read it thus-"And the prophet said unto his So they saddled him, the ass." (Loud sons, saddle me the ass. laughter.) DEFINITION OF A YANKEE. He'd kiss a Queen till he'd raise a blister, With his arms round her neck and his felt hat on; And ask him the price of the throne he sat on. "You can do anything if you only have patience," said an old uncle who had made a fortune to a nephew who had nearly spent one, "water may be carried in a sieve if you can only wait.' "How long?" asked the petulant spendthrift, who was impatient for the old man's obituary. His uncle coolly replied," Till it freezes." "That's a new article for beautifying the complexion," said Mr. Bib, holding up a small bottle of a cosmetic for Mrs. She looked up from toeing out a woollen Partington to look at. "Is it, indeed?' sock for Ike, and took the bottle in her hand. said she, "well, they may get up ever so many of these rostrums for beautifying the complexion, but, depend upon it, the less Mrs. Blotch, has been using a bottle a good many years for her people have to do with bottles for it the better. My neighbour, complexion, and her nose looks like a rupture of Mount Vociferous, with the burning lather running all over the contagious territory. You'd better not try the bottle as a beautifyer, Mr. Bib." Mr. Bib, with a friendly smile informed her that this was simply a cosmetic, harmless in its character, and intended to go upon the face, and not inside it, whereupon she subsided into the toe of Ike's stocking, murmuring something about "leaking in." Ike, in the meanwhile, was amusing himself by rigging a martingale on Lion's tail, securing that waggish member to his collar and making him look as if he was scudding before the wind. |