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"What! shake a patient, man?-a shake won't do." "No, sir—and So we gave him two." "Two shakes!-odds curse! 'twould make the patient worse." "It did so, sir-and so a third we tried." "Well, and what then ?"-"Then, sir, my master-died!"

VH.-HODGE AND THE VICAR.-Anonymous.

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HODGE, a poor honest country lout, not over-stocked with learning, chanced on a summer's eve to meet the Vicar, home returning. "Ah! Master Hodge," the Vicar cried, "what, still as wise as ever? the people in the village say that you are wondrous clever." "Why, Measter Parson, as to that I beg you'll right conceive me; I do na brag, but yet I knaw a thing or two, believe me.' 'We'll try your skill," the Parson cried, "for learning what digestion: and this you'll prove or right or wrong, by solving me a question. Noah, of old, three babies had, or grown up children rather: Shem, Ham, and Japhet they were called; -now who was Japhet's father?" "Rat it!" cried Hodge, and scratched his head; "that does my wits belabour: but howsomde'er, I'll homeward run, and ax old Giles my neighbour."

To Giles he went and put the case, with circumspect intention: "Thou fool," cried Giles, "I'll make it clear to thy dull comprehension. Three children has Tom Long, the smith, or cattle-doctor rather; Tom, Dick, and Harry, they are called: now who is Harry's father?" "Adzooks, I have it," Hodge replied, " right well I know your lingo; who's Harry's father?-stop-here goes,-why Tom Long Smith, by jingo."

Away he ran to find the priest, with all his might and main; who with good-humour instant put the question once again. "Noah, of old, three babies had, or grown-up children rather; Shem, Ham, and Japhet they were called: now who was Japhet's father ?" "I have it now," Hodge grinning cried, "I'll answer like a proctor: who's Japhet's father? now I know; why Long Tom Smith, the Doctor."

VIII.-A CHEAP DINNER.-Planché.

Two "Messieurs" lately from old France come over, half-starved, but toujours gai (no weasels e'er were thinner), trudged up to town from Dover, their slender store exhausted in the way; extremely puzzled how to get "von dinner." From morn till noon, from noon till dewy eve, our Frenchmen wandered on their expedition; great was their need, and sorely did they grieve-stomach and pocket in the same condition! At length, by mutual consent they parted, and different ways on the same errand started. This happened on a day most dear to epicures, when general use sanctions the roasting of a savoury goose! Towards night, one Frenchman, at a tavern near, stopped, and beheld the glorious cheer! while greedily he snuffed the luscious gale in, that from the kitchen-windows was exhaling. He instant set to work his busy brain, and snuffed, and longed, and longed, and snuffed again! Necessity's the mother of invention (a proverb I've heard many mention); so now one moment saw his plan completed, and our sly Frenchman at a table seated. The ready Waiter at his elbow stands" Sir, will you favour me with your commands? we're roast and boiled, Sir; choose you those or these ?" "Sare! you are very good, Sare! Vat you please!"

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Quick at the word, upon the table smokes the wished-for bird! No time in talking did he waste, but pounced pell-mell upon it; drumstick and merry-thought he picked in haste exulting in the merrythought that won it! Pie follows goose, and after pie comes cheese:"Stilton or Cheshire, Sir ?". Ah, vat you please!"- -And now our Frenchman, having ta'en his fill, prepares to go, when—“Sir, your little bill." "Ah, vat, you're Bill" vell, Mr. Bill, good-day! Bon jour, good Villiam.". "No, Sir, stay! my name is Tom, Siryou've this bill to pay." Pay, pay, ma foi! I call for noting, Sare-pardonnez moi! you bring me vat you call your goose, your cheese; you ask-a me to eat-I tell you, Vat you please!" Down came the Landlord; each explained the case, the one with anger, t'other with grimace; but Boniface, who dearly loved a jest, although sometimes he dearly paid for it, and finding nothing could be done (you know, that when a man has got no money, to make him pay some would be rather funny) of a bad bargain made the best, acknowledged much was to be said for it; took pity on the Frenchman's meagre face, then, Briton-like, forgave a fallen foe, laughed heartily, and let him go.

Our Frenchman's hunger thus subdued, away he trotted in a merry mood; when, turning round the corner of a street, who but his countryman he chanced to meet? To him, with many a shrug and many a grin, he told how he had taken Jean Bull in! Fired with the tale, the other licks his chops, makes his congée, and seeks this shop of shops. Entering, he seats himself just at his ease. "What will you take, Sir?"- -"Vat you please!". -The Waiter looked as pale as Paris plaster, and, upstairs running, thus addressed his master: "These vile Mounseers come over sure in pairs; Sir, there's another vat you please' down stairs!"--This made the Landlord rather crusty; "Too much of one thing"-the proverb's somewhat musty once to be done his anger didn't touch; but when a second time they tried the treason-it made him crusty, Sir, and with good reason:-you would be crusty were you done so much.

There is a kind of instrument which greatly helps a serious argument, and which, when properly applied, occasions some most unpleasant tickling sensations!-'twould make more clumsy folks than Frenchmen skip, 'twould strike you presently-a stout horsewhip. This instrument our Maitre d'hote most carefully concealed beneath his coat; and, seeking instantly the Frenchman's station, addressed him with the usual salutation. Our Frenchman, bowing to his threadbare knees, determined while the iron's hot to strike it, quick with his lesson answers-" Vat you please!" But scarcely had he let the sentence slip, when round his shoulders twines the pliant whip. "Sare, Sare! ah, misericorde! parbleu! oh, dear! Monsieur! vat make you use me so? Vat you call dis?"- 'Ah, don't you know, that's what I please," says Bony, "how d'ye like it? Your friend, though I paid dearly for his funning, deserved the goose he gained, Sir, for his cunning; but you, Monsieur, or else my time I'm wasting, are goose enough-and only wanted basting."

IX. THE SPIRIT OF CONTRADICTION.—Lloyd.

THE very silliest things in life create the most material strife: what scarce will suffer a debate, will oft produce the bitterest hate. "It

is!" you say,—I say, ""Tis not!" Why, you grown_ warm--and I am not. Thus each alike with passion glows, and words come first-and after, blows.

Friend Jerkin had an income clear, some fifty pounds or more a year; and rented, on the farming plan, grounds at much greater sums per ann. A man of consequence no doubt, 'mongst all his neighbours round about: he was of frank and open mind, too honest to be much refined; would smoke his pipe, and tell his tale, sing a good song, and drink his ale.

His wife was of another mould; her age was-neither young nor old; her features, strong, yet somewhat plain; her air, not bad, but rather vain; her temper, neither new nor strange; a `woman's—very apt to change: what she most hated was-CONVICTION; what she most loved-FLAT CONTRADICTION! A charming housewife, ne'ertheless tell me a thing she could not dress: soups, hashes, pickles, puddings, pies, naught came amiss-she was so wise; for she, bred twenty miles from town, had brought a world of breeding down, and Cumberland had seldom seen a farmer's wife with such a mien. She could not bear the sound of Dame; no;-"Mistress Jerkin" was her

name.

Once on a time, the season fair for exercise and cheerful air, it happened in his morning's roam he killed some birds, and brought them home. "Here, Cicely, take away my gun; how shall we have these starlings done?" "-Done! what, my love? your wits are wild! starlings, my dear! they're thrushes, child."—" Nay, now, but look, consider, wife, they're starlings."-"No, upon my life! sure I can judge as well as you, I know a thrush and starling too."-"Who was it shot them, you or I? they're starlings!"- "Thrushes!"- 66 Wife, you lie."-" Pray, Sir, take back your dirty word, I scorn your language as your bird; it ought to make a husband blush, to treat a wife so 'bout a thrush."-" Thrush, Cicely!"-"Yes."—"A starling!" -"No."—The lie again, and then the blow. Blows carry strong and quick conviction, and mar the powers of contradiction. Peace soon ensued, and all was well: it were imprudence to rebel, or keep the ball up of debate, against these arguments of weight.

A year rolled on in perfect ease; 'twas, "As you like!" and, "What you please!"-At length returned, in annual flight, the day of this most fowlish fight: quoth Cicely-"Ah, this charming life, no tumults now, no blows, no strife! what fools we were this day last year! Law! how you beat me then, my dear! Sure it was idle and absurd, to wrangle so about a bird, a bird not worth a single rush❞— "A starling." "No, my love, a thrush! that I'll maintain." "That I'll deny."- "You're wrong, good husband."- "Wife, you lie!" Again the self-same wrangle rose, again the lie, again the blows. Thus, every year (true man and wife), ensues the same domestic strife: thus every year their quarrel ends-they argue, fight, and kiss, and friends; 'tis "Starling!" "Thrush !"-and Thrush!"-and "Starling!"—"You dog!"-"You cat!"-"My dear!"-"My darling!"

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X. THE THREE BLACK CROWS.-Dr. Byron.

Two honest tradesmen, meeting in the Strand, one shook the other briskly by the hand: "Hark you," said he, "tis an odd story this, about the crows!" "I don't know what it is,”—replied his friend.

"No! I'm surprised at that; where I came from, it is the common chat. But you shall hear: an odd affair indeed! and that it happened, they are all agreed: Not to detain you from a thing so strange-a gentleman who lives not far from 'Change, this week, in short, as all the Alley knows, taking a vomit, threw up Three Black Crows." "Impossible!"-"Nay, but 'tis really true; I have it from good hands, and so may you." "From whose, I pray ?" So, having named the man, straight to inquire his curious comrade ran. "Sir, did you tell"relating the affair. "Yes, Sir, I did; and if 'tis worth your care, 'twas Mr."—such-a-one--"who told it me; but, by-the-by, 'twas Two Black Crows, not three."

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Resolved to trace so wondrous an event, quick to the third the virtuoso went. Sir," and so forth-" Why, yes; the thing is fact, though, 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"-" Where may I find him ?"—"Why, in"-such a place.

Away he ran; and, having found him out,-"Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt:"-then, to his last informant he referred, and begged 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; and here, I find, all comes at last to none! Did you say nothing of a crow at all?" "Crow ?—crow?-Oh! perhaps I might, now I recal the matter o'er.""And pray, Sir, what was't?" — """ -"Why, I was horrid sick, and, at the last, I did throw up-and told my neighbour so-something, that was -as black, Sir, as a crow."

XI.-A BACHELOR'S COMPLAINT.-H. G. Bell.

THEY'RE stepping off, the friends I knew; they're going one by one, they're taking wives to tame their lives-their jovial days are done! İ can't get one old crony now to join me in a spree; they've all grown grave domestic men, they look askance on me. I hate to see them sobered down-the merry boys and true; I hate to hear them sneering now at pictures fancy drew; I care not for their married cheer, their puddings and their soups, and middle-aged relations round in formidable groups. And though their wife perchance may have a comely sort of face, and at the table's upper end conduct herself with graceI hate the prim reserve that reigns, the caution and the state; I hate to see my friend grown vain of furniture and plate.

How strange! they go to bed at ten, and rise at half-past nine; and seldom do they now exceed a pint or so of wine:-they play at whist for sixpences, they very rarely dance, they never read a word of rhyme, nor open a romance. They talk, indeed, of politics, of taxes, and of crops, and very quietly, with their wives, they trot about to shops ;they get quite skilled in groceries, and learn'd in butcher meat, and know exactly what they pay for everything they eat. And then they all have children too, to squall through thick and thin, and seem right proud to multiply small images of sin! If these be Hymen's vaunted joys, I'd have him shun my door, unless he'll quench his torch, and live henceforth--a Bachelor.

XII.-FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY.-Hood.

BEN BATTLE was a soldier bold, and used to war's alarms; but a cannon-ball shot off his legs, so he laid down his arms! Now, as they bore him off the field, said he, "Let others shoot, for here I leave my second leg, and the Forty-second foot!"- -The army surgeons made him limbs said he, "They're only pegs: but there's as wooden members quite, as represent my legs!"

Now Ben long loved a pretty maid, whose name was Nelly Gray, and he went to pay her his devours, when he'd devoured his pay. But when he called on Nelly Gray, she made him quite a scoff: and when she saw his wooden legs, began to take them off! "Oh, Nelly Gray! oh, Nelly Gray! is this your love so warm? the love that loves a scarlet coat, should be more uniform!" Said she, I loved a soldier once, for he was blythe and brave: but I will never have a man, with both legs in the grave. Before you had those timber toes, your love I did allow but then, you know, you stand upon another footing now!" "Oh, Nelly Gray! oh, Nelly Gray! for all your jeering speeches, at duty's call I left my legs in Badajos's breaches!" Why then," said she, "you've lost the feat of legs in war's alarms: and now you cannot wear your shoes, upon your feats of arms." "Oh, false and fickle Nelly Gray, I know why you refuse: though I've no feet, some other man is standing in my shoes! I wish I ne'er had seen your face; but now, a long farewell! for you will be my death:-alas! you will not be my Nell."

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Now when he went from Nelly Gray his heart so heavy got, and life was such a burden grown, it made him take a knot. So round his melancholy neck a rope he did entwine; and, for the second time in life, enlisted in the Line! One end he tied around a beam, and then removed his pegs; and, as his legs were off, of course he soon was off his legs. And there he hung till he was dead as any nail in town: for, though distress had cut him up, it could not cut him down. A dozen men sat on his corpse to find out why he died; and they buried Ben in four cross-roads, with a stake in his inside!

XIII. THE TINKER AND MILLER'S DAUGHTER.-Dr. Wolcot. UPON a day, a poor travelling tinker, on fortune's various tricks a constant thinker, passed in some village near a miller's door; when, lo! his eye did most astonished catch the miller's daughter peeping o'er the hatch-deformed, and monstrous ugly, to be sure. Struck with the uncommon form, the tinker started, just like a frightened horse or murderer carted, up gazing at the gibbet and the rope; turning his brain about in a brown study (for as I've said, his brain was not so muddy), "'Sbud!" (quoth the tinker) "I have now some hope. Fortune, the jade, is not far off, perchance"-and then began to rub his hands and dance.

Now all so full of love, o'erjoyed he ran, embraced and squeezed Miss Grist, and thus began: "My dear! my soul! my angel! sweet Miss Grist! now may I never mend a kettle more, if ever I saw one like you before!" then, nothing loth, the nymph like Eve, he kissed Now, very sensibly indeed, Miss Grist thought opportunity should not be missed; for really 'tis with girls a dangerous farce, to flout a swain when offers are but scarce. She did not scream, and cry, "I'll

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