more. A second Sunday arriving without the pig great gentry; wherein by his bill of fare, three being restored, his reverence, again looking stead- hundred quarters of wheat, three hundred and fastly at the stubborn purloiner, and throwing a thirty tuns of ale, one hundred and four tuns of deep note of anger into the tone of his voice, re- wine, one pipe of spiced wine, eighty fat oxen, six peated the question, "Who stole Pat Doolan's pig? wild bulls, one thousand and four wethers, three say, who stole poor Pat Doolan's pig?" Still there hundred hogs, there hundred calves, three thouwas no answer, and the question was left as before, sand geese, three thousand capons, three hundred to work its effect in secret on the conscience of the pigs, one hundred peacocks, two hundred cranes, guilty individual. The hardihood of the offender two hundred birds, two thousand chickens, four however exceeded all the honest priest's calcula-thousand pigeons, four thousand rabbits, two tions. A third Sunday arrived and Pat Doolan was hundred and four bitterns, four thousand ducks, still without his pig. Some stronger measures now two hundred pheasants, five hundred partridges, became necessary. After service was performed, four thousand woodcocks, four hundred plovers, his reverence, dropping the question of "Who one hundred curlews, one hundred quails, one stole Pat Doolan's pig?" but still without directly thousand egrets, two hundred rees, above four accusing any one of the theft, reproachfully ex-hundred bucks, does, and roebucks, one thousand claimed, "Jimmie Doran! Jimmie Doran! you five hundred and six hot venison pasties, four thoutrate me with contimpt." Jimmie Doran hung sand cold venison pasties, one thousand dishes of down his head, and next morning the pig was jelly pasted, four thousand dishes of plain jelly, found at the door of Pat Doolan's cabin. four thousand cold custards, two thousand hot Another Irish priest, by name Felix Macabe, custards, three hundred pike, three hundred bream, author of a grammar of the English language, was eight seals, four porpoises, and four hundred tarts. expatiating from the pulpit on the reciprocal duties At this feast the Earl of Warwick was steward; the of the pastor and his flock, and on the account to Earl of Bedford, treasurer; the Lord of Hastings, be given on that subject at the day of final retribu- comptroller, with many more noble officers; servition. "Well, father Felix," he observed, “the great tors, one thousand; cooks, sixty-two; kitcheners, Judge will say, and how have you fulfilled the five hundred and fifteen. Bat," continues duties of your office? Have you neglected the honest Fuller, "seven years after, the king seized charge you undertook, or supplied the wants of on all the estate of this archbishop, and sent him your parishioners ? and I shall reply, "Holy Father, over to Calais in France, where vinctus jacuit in I prached to them, and I prached to them, I prayed summa inopia, he was kept bound in extreme for their sowls, and I gave them my blessings.' poverty. Justice thus punished his former prodiWell, Father Felix, and how did your flock trate you? Did they pay you their dues and bring you their offerings? And then you villains, what am to say?" added he, apostrophizing the congregation, "You know you do nothing but chate me." CLERICAL FEAST. "In the year 1470, says Fuller, in his Church History, "George Nevill, brother to the great Earl of Warwick, at his instalment into the Archbishoprick of York, gave a prodigious feast to all the nobility, most of the prime clergy, and many of the gality." CLEARING A TITLE. Sir Thomas More, on the day that he was beheaded, had a barber sent to him, because his hair was long, which was thought would make him more commiserated by the people. The barber came to him, and asked him, "whether he would please to be trimmed ?" "In good faith, honest fellow," saith Sir Thomas," the king and I have a suit for my head; and till the title be cleared, I will do no cost upon it." CHURCH LIVERY. One Sunday, as Roger Cox, Dean Swift's clerk, was going to church, his scarlet waistcoat caught Swift's eye; Roger bowed, and observed, that he wore scarlet because he belonged to the church militant. WIT. Wit has its walks and purlieus, out of which it may not stray the breadth of an hair, upon peril of being lost. FOOTE'S WIFE. Dr. Nash, of Worcester, being in town one spring, not long after Foote's marriage, intended to pay his old fellow-collegian a visit, but was much surprised at hearing that he was in the Fleet prison. Thither he hastened directly; and found him in a dirty twopair-of-stairs back room, with furniture every way suitable to such an apartment. The Doctor, shocked at this circumstance, began to condole with him; when Foote cut him short by turning the whole into raillery : Why, is not this better," said he, "than the gout, the fever, the small-pox, and 46 'The thousand various ills That flesh is heir to ?' This is a mere temporary confinement; without pain, and not very uncongenial (let me tell you) to this sharp biting weather: whereas the above disorders would not only give pain and confinement for a time, but perhaps ultimately prevent a man from ever going into the world again." INNS FOR ALL CLASSES. The gentry to the King's Head To the Ship the merchants go, The sign called River Po. The fiddler to the Pies. ASCENSION DAY. Foote, in walking about his own grounds at Northend one morning with a friend, spied dashing towards them on the Fulham road, two persons in one of those "Is Laughing on in this manner, the Doctor perceived high phaetons so much the vogue of that day. something stir behind him in the bed; upon which not that Moody," said he, "in that strange threehe got up, and said he would call another time.-pair-of-stairs phaeton ?"-"Yes," said his friend; "No, no," said the other, sit down 'tis nothing "and Mr. Johnson, the stock-broker, with him and but my Foot."-" Your foot !" said the Doctor: yet I wonder how he can leave his business, for I "well; I want no apologies, I shall call another think this is no holiday."- Why, no," said Foote; time.""I tell you again," said the other, "'tis "I think not. except they choose to call this ascennothing but my Foot; and to convince you of its sion day." being no more, it shall speak to you directly." Upon this his poor wife put her head from under the bed- There is one thing in all new ministries; for the clothes; and, with much confusion and embarrass-first week or two they are in a hurry, or not to be ment, made many apologies for her distressed situa-seen; and when you come afterwards, they are tion. engaged, NEW MINISTRIES. SWIFT. CONJUGAL LOVE. Could Kate for Dick compose the Gordian string, Is bound in duty to exalt her spouse. ON SEEING VERSES WRITTEN UPON WINDOWS AT The sage who said he would be proud Of windows in his breast, The di'mond and the lover. ANOTHER. That love is the devil I'll prove when requir'd; the same, THE BEST OF A BAD JOB. Nothing can be finer than Swift's description of the dwelling and attendants of Criticism in the Battle of the Books. "This malignant deity dwelt on the top of a snowy mountain in Nova Zembla : Momus found her extended in her den upon the spoils of numberless volumes half devoured. At her right hand sat Ignorance, her father and hus|band, blind with age; at her left, Pride, her mother, dressing her up in the scraps of paper herself had torn. There was Opinion, her sister, light of foot, hood-winked, and headstrong, yet giddy and perpetually turning. About her played her children, Noise and Impudence, Dulness and Vanity, Positiveness, Pedantry, and Ill Manners." SWIFT'S SIMILES. Is not religion a cloak; honesty a pair of shoes worn out in the dirt; self-love a surtout; vanity shirt; and conscience a pair of breeches, which, though a cover for lewdness, as well as nastiness, is easily slipt down for the service of both. When Dr. Franklin was agent in England for the province of Pennsylvania, he was frequently applied to by the ministry for his opinion respecting the opera-a tion of the Stamp Act; but his answer was uniformly that the people of America would never submit to it," After the news of the destruction of the stamped papers had arrived in England, the ministry again sent for the Doctor to consult with; and in conclusion offered this proposal: "That if the Americans would engage to pay for the damage done in the destruction of the stamped paper, &c. the parliament would then repeal the act." The Doctor, having paused upon this question for some time, at last answered it as follows:-"This puts me in mind of a Frenchman, who, having heated a poker red-hot, ran furiously into the street, and addressing the first Englishman he met there, Hah! monsieur, voulezvous give me de plaisir, de satisfaction, to let me run this poker only one foot into your body ?- My body!' replied the Englishman: what do you mean?'- Vel den, only so far,' marking about six inches., Are you mad?' returned the other; I THE PLEASING REPULSE. She that denies me, I would bave, Who craves me 1 despise, That crafty girl will please me best, And ev'ry wanton willing puss MR. CESAR. Swift dined one day in company with the Lord Keeper, his son, and their two ladies, and Mr. Caesar, treasurer of the navy, at his house in the city. They happened to talk of Brutus, and Swift said something in his praise; when it struck him immediately that he had made a blunder in doing so; and therefore recollecting himself, he said, "Mr. Cæsar, I beg your pardon." OLIVER CROMWELL. A Ballad, by Samuel Butler Draw near, good people, all draw near, And hearken to my ditty; A stranger thing, Than this I sing, Came never to this city. Had you but seen this monster, You wou'd not give a farthing For the lions in the grate, Nor the mountain-cat, Nor the bears in Paris-garden. You wou'd defy the pageants, Are borne before the mayor; The strangest shape, You e'er did gape Upon at Bart'lmy-fair! His face is round and decent, As is your dish or platter, On which there grows A thing like a nose, But, indeed, it is no such matter. On both sides of th' aforesaid Are eyes, but th'are not matches, And large, well-grown mustaches. Now this with admiration That a beard should grow Did ye ever see the like? He has no skull, 'tis well known But th'are mere hide, Or morsels of tripe, choose ye whether. Between these two extendeth A slit from ear to ear, That, every hour, The sowce, that grows so near. Beneath a tuft of bristles, As rough as a frize-jerkin; Most sharp and keen, corroding The winds did blow, the thunder The hollow tree in th' owl- And the walls he clamber'd, up With nails most sharp and keen, The prints whereof, Are yet for to be seen. And out o'th' top o'th' chimney Yet by the stink Knew, which way he was gone. The country round about there Away men, women, and children. Long did he there continue; And all those parts much harmed; She sing'd the claws With tip of his tail and his right ear. On his back astride, But, to the admiration He hath been shown In every town, And eke in every shire. And now, at length, he's brought Where, in Fleet-street, That will not believe my ditty. As here my song has-Finis. A GOOD SORT OF MAN. SWIFT'S LIVING. On rainy days alone I dine, Upon a chick, and pint of wine: Havard the actor (better known, from the urbanity of his manners, by the familiar name of Billy Havard) had the misfortune to be married to a most notorious shrew and drunkard. One day dining at Garrick's, he was complaining of a violent pain in his side. Mrs. Garrick offered to prescribe for him. No, no," said her husband; "that will not do, my dear: Billy has mistaken his disorder; his great com. plaint lies in his rib.” |