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give this as one, so Ladies try your skill—but all this is digressive, so to return ; Escuphalias rigged out in that taste which is best calculated to display his figure to advantage, mounted his poney and rode majestically amidst “Drums, trumpets, blunderbusses and thunder” to a place appointed in the environs of this renowned city of New Amsterdam, for the purpose of reviewing the troops of the Refublique. But elevated as he was in imagination and on horseback, yet when he got to the place of his destination the remembrance of his fair one darted through his mind like the beams of Phoebus

through the lucid tide, and having

an effect extraordinaire upon the delicate contexture of his nerves, (no smelling bottle being near) he shook thrice on his saddle—thrice I say did he shake—and having shook he lost his balance and fell from his horse down prone upon the ground. At first he rolled back as is natural for a large mass possessing a considerable degree of rotundity, as Doctor K p can swear, then forward and then backwards, and then with one convulsive struggle he fell with his face into the thing which I foretold was of all other things most like a full moon, which probably you will find, gentie reader, if you pay a little attention and look back about a page or so. And when he was in the act of falling, with his cafiut toward the centre of gravity and his heels extended in the manner of a tree, was there no arm held

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forth to prevent the collision of the balls two (I mean the earthly and the fleshly)---did no feeling breast beat with pity at his impending fate 2 No gentle reader but he was doomed to fall as when in ancient times some Nero was wont to be pierced by the massy lance of a Hector, a Diomed or an Achilles. I say as an ancient hero did, he lies. But, gentle reader do not insult my hero if you are somewhat of a sarcastic turn, by swearing that he must have been the Knight of the woeful countenance. I acknowledge that when he got up he looked woeful enough, but as good k would have it his olfactory nerve peeped through the accumulated mass as the light of a lamp peeps through a keyhole. I will not enlarge upon the subject by depicting the feelings of Dulcinea upon hearing of this accident—suffice it to say, that when she heard of it she flew to him and endeavoured

by her caresses to make him forget

his misfortune. Now, in my humble opinion, this little affair, most faithfully related, is a conclusive argument against all those sceptics who may coincide with our Abbe in opinion; but it may be supposed by some that our heroine was some Clelia or Glorianna--no such thing, gentle reader, she was no queen or goddess, but if she was, her throne was in the kitchen, and the tenure by which she held it was a greasy one, enough in all conscience. Now having refuted the heterodoxical notions of the learned la Grenouille, I leave him to

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Efigrams.

whisp'ring close a maid long courted, Thus cried Drone, by touch transported, * Prithee, tell me, gentle Dolly! Is not loving long a folly ” • Yes,’ said she, with smile reproving, • Loving long, and only loving.' Women talk of love for fashion,

So they do of spirit walking ; But no more they feel the passion,

Than see the ghosts of which they're

talking.
—-

Miss P. who had many lovers, and had had several children, complained thus to lord Chesterfield : “Only think how I am belied ; they give out that I was lately brought to bed of twins.” “Then,' answered his lordship, “I only believe reports of that kind by halves.”

*oMarriage.

At no time of life should a man give up the thoughts of enjoying the society of women. “In youth,” says my Lord Bacon, “women are our mistresses, at a riper age our companions, and in old age our nurses, and in all ages our friends.”

Rhetoric. An anecdote.

That sort is best which is most seasonable and catching. An instance we have in that old commander at Cadiz who shewed a good orator. Being to say something to his soldiers, (which he was not used to do) he made them a speech to this purpose---‘What a shame would it be, you Englishmen, that feed upon good beef and

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It said that Sir Isaac Newton did once in his life go a wooing, and, as he was expected, had the greatest indulgence paid to his little peculiarities which ever accompany great genius. Knowing he was fond of smoking, the lady assiduously provided him with a pipe, and they were seated as if to open the business of cupid. Sir Isaac smoked a few whiffs—seemed at a loss for something—whiffed again—and at last drew his chair near to the lady—a pause of some minutes ensued—Sir Isaac seemed still more uneasy-oh the timidity of some thought the lady —when lo | Sir Isaac had got

hold of her hand. Now the pal

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