fuss; on tip-toe walk and hold your prate. "Look on the stones, old Cerberus," cried Harry, as he passed the gate; "I've dropped a Shilling-take the light-you'll find it just outside-good night."

Behold the porter in his shirt, dripping with rain which never stopped, groping and raking in the dirt, and all without success; but that is hardly to be wondered at, because no shilling had been dropped; so he gave o'er the search at last, regained the door and found it fast! With sundry oaths, and growls, and groans, he rang once-twice-thrice; and then, mingled with giggling, heard the tones of Harry, mimicking old Ben.- Who's there?-'tis really a disgrace to ring so loud--I've locked the gate-I know my duty-'tis too late--you wouldn't have me lose my place." "Psha! Mr. Dashington, remember, this is the middle of November. I'm stripped--'tis raining cats and dogs." "Hush, hush!" quoth Hal, "I'm fast asleep ;" and then he snored as loud and deep as a whole company of hogs. "But hark ye, Ben, I'll grant admittance at the same rate I paid myself." Nay, master, leave me half the pittance," replied the avaricious elf. "No: all or none--a full acquittance; the terms I know are somewhat high; but you have fixed the price, not I--I won't take less--I can't afford it." So finding all his haggling vain, Ben, with a growl and groan of pain, drew out the guinea and restored it.

"Surely you'll give me," growled the outwitted porter when again admitted, "something, now you've done your joking, for all this trouble, time, and soaking." "Oh, surely, surely!" Harry said: “since, as you urge, I broke your rest, and you're half drowned and quite undressed, I'll give you--leave to go to bed."

XVIII. THE FRENCHMAN AND THE RATS.-Anon.

A FRENCHMAN once, who was a merry wight, passing to town from Dover in the night, near the road-side an ale-house chanced to spy: and, being rather tired as well as dry, resolved to enter; but first he took a peep, in hopes a supper he might get, and cheap. He enters: "Hallo! garçon, if you please, bring me a littel bit of bread and cheese; hallo! garçon, a pot of porter too!" he said, " vich I shall take, and then myself to bed."

His supper done, some scraps of cheese were left, which our poor Frenchman, thinking it no theft, into his pocket put; then slowly crept to wished-for bed; but not a wink he slept--for on the floor some sacks of flour were laid, to which the rats a nightly visit paid. Our hero now undressed, popped out the light, put on his cap, and bade the world good night: but first the garment, which contained the fare, under his pillow he had placed with care. Sans cérémonie, soon the rats all ran, and on the flour-sacks greedily began; at which they gorged themselves; then, smelling round, under the pillow soon the cheese they found; and while at this feast they regaling sat, their happy jaws disturbed the Frenchman's nap; who, half awake, cries out, "Hallo! hallo! vat is dat nibbel at my pillow so? Ah! 'tis one huge big monster rat! Vat is it dat he nibbel, nibbel at?" In vain our little hero sought repose; sometimes the vermin galloped o'er his nose; and such the pranks they kept up all the night, that he, on end antipodes upright, bawling aloud, called stoutly for a light: Hallo! Maison! Garçon ! Landlord! I say! bring me de bill for vat I have to pay!"

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The bill was brought, and to his great surprise, Ten shillings" charged; he scarce believes his eyes! With eager haste he runs it o'er, and, every time he views it, thinks it more. Vy, sare! O sare!" he cries: "I sall no pay; vat! charge ten shelang for vat I've mangé? a leetel sup of porter,-dis vile bed, vare all de rats do run about my head ?" 66 Plague on those rats!" the landlord muttered out: "I wish, Mounseer, that I could make 'em scout: I'll pay him well that can. Vat's dat you say?" 66 "At"I'll pay him well that can." tendez, pray: vill you dis charge forego, vat I am at, if from your house I drive away de rat?" "With all my heart," the jolly host replies; Ecoutez donc, ami," the Frenchman cries. "First, denregardez, if you please; bring to dis spot a littel bread and cheese. Eh bien! a half-filled pot of porter too; and den invite de rats to sup vid you: and after dat-no matter dey be villing-for vat dey eat, you charge dem just ten shelang; and I am sure, ven dey behold de score, dey'll quit your house, and never come no more."

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XIX. THE FARMER AND THE BARRISTER.-Smith.

A COUNSEL in the Common Pleas, who was esteemed a mighty wit upon the strength of a chance hit, amid a thousand flippancies, and his occasional bad jokes in bullying, bantering, browbeating, ridiculing and maltreating women or other timid folks, in a late cause resolved to hoax a clownish Yorkshire farmer--one who by his uncouth look and gait, appeared expressly meant by Fate for being quizzed and played upon: so, having tipped the wink to those in the back rows, who kept their laughter bottled down until our wag should draw the cork, he smiled jocosely on the clown, and went to work. "Well, Farmer Numscull, how go calves at York?" "Why-not, Sir, as they do wi' you, but on four legs instead of two." "Officer!" cried the legal elf, piqued at the laugh against himself, "do pray keep silence down below there. Now look at me, clown, and attend: have I not seen you somewhere, friend?" "Yees-very like--I often go there." "Our rustic's waggish--quite laconic," the counsel cried with grin sardonic;--"I wish I'd known this prodigy--this genius of the clods, when I on circuit was at York residing. Now, Farmer, do for once speak true,-mind, you're on oath; so tell me, you, who doubtless think yourself so clever-are there as many fools as ever in the West Riding?" Why, no, Sir, no; we've got our share, but not so many as when you were there."

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XX. THE BEST OF WIVES.-Anon.

A MAN had once a vicious wife-(a most uncommon thing in life); his days and nights were spent in strife-unceasing. Her tongue went glibly all day long, sweet contradiction still her song, and all the poor man did was wrong, and ill-done. A truce without doors, or within, from speeches long as tradesmen spin, or rest from her eternal din, he found not. He every soothing art displayed, tried of what stuff her skin was made: failing in all, to Jove he prayed-to take her.

Once, walking by a river's side, in mournful terms, "My dear," he cried, "no more let feuds our peace divide, -I'll end them. Weary of life, and quite resigned, to drown I have made up my mind, so

tie my hands as fast behind as can be; or nature may assert her reign, my arms assist, my will restrain, and swimming, I once more regain my troubles." With eager haste the dame complies, while joy stands glistening in her eyes; already, in her thoughts, he dies before her. "Yet, when I view the rolling tide, nature revolts"-he said; beside, I would not be a suicide, and die thus. It would be better far I think, while close I stand upon the brink, you push me in,-nay, never shrink-but do it."

To give the blow the more effect, some twenty yards she ran direct, and did what she could least expect she should do. He slips aside himself to save, so souse she dashes in the wave; and gave, what ne'er she gave before-much pleasure. “Dear husband, help! I sink!" she cried. "Thou best of wives-" the man replied, "I would, --but you my hands have tied,-heaven help you!"

XXI.-LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN.-Colman.

WHO has e'er been in London, that overgrown place, has seen "Lodgings to Let" stare him full in the face. Some are good, and let dearly; while some, 'tis well known, are so dear, and so bad, they are best let alone.

Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely, hired lodgings that took Single Gentlemen only; but Will was so fat he appeared like a tun, or like two SINGLE GENTLEMEN rolled into ONE. He entered his rooms, and to bed he retreated; but, all the night long, he felt fevered and heated; and, though heavy to weigh as a score of fat sheep, he was not, by any means, heavy to sleep. Next night 'twas the same and the next and the next! he perspired like an ox, he was nervous and vexed; week passed after week, till, by weekly succession, his weakly condition was past all expression.

In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him; for his skin, "like a lady's loose gown," hung about him: he sent for a Doctor, and cried, like a ninny, "I have lost many pounds-make me well-there's a guinea." The Doctor looked wise:-" A slow fever," he said; prescribed sudorifics, and going to bed. "Sudorifics in bed," exclaimed Will, are humbugs! I've enough of them there without paying for drugs!" Will kicked out the Doctor:--but when ill indeed, e'en dismissing the Doctor don't always succeed; so, calling his host-he said- Sir, do you know, I'm the fat SINGLE GENTLEMAN, Six months ago? Look ye, Landlord, I think," argued Will with a grin, that with honest intentions you first took me in: but from the first night-and to say it I'm bold--I've been so very hot, that I'm sure I caught cold!" Quoth the Landlord,--“Till now I ne'er had a dispute; I've let lodgings ten years-I'm a baker to boot; in airing your sheets, sir, my wife is no sloven; and your bed is immediately-over my ovEN.' "The OVEN !"- says Will: says the host," Why this passion? in that excellent bed died three people of fashion. Why so crusty, good sir?"-"Why!" cried Will in a taking, "who would not be crusty, with half a year's baking?"

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Will paid for his rooms:-cried the host with a sneer, "Well, I see you've been going away half a year." Friend, we can't well agree;--yet no quarrel"-Will said:"but I'd rather not perish, while you make your bread."

XXII. THE JESTER CONDEMNED TO DEATH.-James Smith. ONE of the Kings of Scanderoon, a Royal Jester, had in his train a gross buffoon, who used to pester the Court with tricks inopportune, venting on the highest folks his scurvy pleasantries and hoaxes. It needs some sense to play the fool, which wholesome rule occurred not to our jackanapes; who consequently found his freaks led to innumerable scrapes, and quite as many kicks and tweaks, which only seemed to make him faster try the patience of his master.

Some sin, at last, beyond all measure, incurred the desperate displeasure of his serene and raging Highness: whether he twitched his most revered and sacred beard, or had intruded on the shyness of the Seraglio, or let fly an epigram at royalty, none knows :-his sin was an occult one; but records tell us that the Sultan, meaning to terrify the knave, exclaimed--"'Tis time to stop that breath; thy doom is sealed:-presumptuous slave! thou stand'st condemned to certain death. Silence, base rebel!-no replying!—but such is my indulgence still, that, of my own free grace and will, I leave to thee the mode of dying."

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Thy royal will be done-- 'tis just," replied the wretch, and kissed the dust; "since, my last moments to assuage, your Majesty's humane decree has deigned to leave the choice to me, I'll die, so please you, of old age!"

XXIII. THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE.-Southey.

A WELL there is in the west country, and a clearer one never was seen; there is not a wife in the west country, but has heard of the Well of St. Keyne. An oak and an elm-tree stand beside, and behind does an ash-tree grow, and a willow from the bank above droops to the water below.

A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne; joyfully he drew nigh, for from cock-crow he had been travelling, and there was not a cloud in the sky. He drank of the water so cool and clear, for thirsty and hot was he; and he sat down upon the bank, under the willow-tree.

There came a man from the neighbouring town, at the Well to fill his pail; on the Well-side he rested it, and he bade the stranger hail."Now, art thou a bachelor, stranger?" quoth he, "for, an' if thou hast a wife, the happiest draught thou hast drunk this day, that ever thou didst in thy life. Or has thy good woman-if one thou hast-ever here in Cornwall been? for, an' if she have, I'll venture my life she has drunk of the Well of St. Keyne." "I have left a good woman who never was here," the stranger he made reply; "but that my draught should be better for that, pray you answer m why." "St. Keyne," quoth the Cornish-man, "many a time drank of this crystal Well, and before the angel summoned her, she laid on the water a spell: If the husband, of this gifted Well shall drink before his wife, a happy man henceforth is he, for he shall be master for life. But if the wife should drink of it first,-heaven help the husband then!"-The stranger stooped to the Well of St. Keyne, and drank of the water again. "You drank of the Well, I warrant, betimes?" he to the Cornish-man said: but the Cornish-man smiled as the stranger spake, and sheepishly shook his head. "I hastened as soon as the wedding was done, and left my wife in the porch: but i'faith! she had been wiser than I, for she to a bottle to church."

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XXIV. CONTEST BETWEEN THE NOSE AND THE EYES.-Cowper. BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose, the spectacles set them unhappily wrong; the point in dispute was, as all the world knows, to which the said spectacles ought to belong. So the Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause with a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning; while chief-baron Ear sat to balance the laws, so famed for his talent in nicely discerning. "In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear, and your Lordship," he said, "will undoubtedly find, that the nose has had spectacles always in wear, which amounts to possession time out of mind." Then holding the spectacles up to the court" Your Lordship observes they are made with a straddle, as wide as the ridge of the nose is; in short, designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle. Again, would your Lordship a moment suppose ('tis a case that has happened, and may be again), that the visage or countenance had not a Nose, pray who would, or who could, wear spectacles then? On the whole it appears, and my argument shows, with a reasoning the court will never condemn, that the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose, and the Nose was as plainly intended for them."

Then shifting his side, as a lawyer knows how, he pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes; but what were his arguments few people know, for the Court did not think they were equally wise. So his Lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tone, decisive and clear, without one if or but, that--"Whenever the Nose put his spectacles on, by daylight or candle-light-Eyes should be shut."

XXV.-THE SPLENDID SHILLING.-J. Philips.

HAPPY the man who, void of cares and strife, in silken or in leathern purse retains a splendid shilling! He nor hears with pain new oysters cried, nor sighs for cheerful ale; but with his friends, when nightly mists arise, to Juniper's Magpie or Town Hall repairs--where, mindful of the nymph whose wanton eye transfixed his soul and kindled amorous flames, Chloe or Phillis, he each circling glass wisheth her health, and joy, and equal love; meanwhile he smokes, and laughs at merry tale, or pun ambiguous, or conundrum quaint:- -but I, whom griping penury surrounds, and hunger, sure attendant upon want, with scanty offals and small acid tiff (wretched repast!) my meagre corpse sustain; then solitary walk, or doze at home in garret vile, and with a warming puff regale chilled fingers; or from tube as black as winter-chimney or well-polished jet, exhale mundungus, ill-perfuming scent! Not blacker tube nor of a shorter size smokes CambroBriton (versed in pedigree sprung from Cadwallader and Arthur, kings full famous in romantic tale) when he, o'er many a craggy hill and barren cliff, upon a cargo of famed Cestrian cheese high overshadowing rides, with a design to vend his wares or at the Avonian mart or Maridunum, or the ancient town ycleped Brechinia, or where Vaga's stream encircles Ariconium, fruitful soil! whence flow nectareous wines that well may vie with Massick, Setin, or renowned Falern. Thus while my joyless minutes tedious flow, with looks demure and silent pace. a Dun, horrible monster! hated by gods and men, to my aërial citadel ascends. With vocal heel thrice thundering at my gate, with hideous accent thrice he calls. I know the voice ill-boding, and the solemn sound. What should I do, or whither