in. They opine that the club is not sufficiently west; they hint at something near Pall Mall, and a little more style. Douglas Jerrold rebukes them. 'No, no, gentlemen; not near Pall Mall; we might catch coronets.' "Another of these young gentlemen, who has recently emerged from the humblest fortune and position, and exulting in the social consideration of his new elevation, puts aside his antecedents. Having met Douglas Jerrold in the morning, while on horseback, he ostentatiously says to him, 'Well, you see I'm all right at last!' 'Yes,' is the reply, 'I see you now ride upon your cat's-meat.' "The conversation turns upon the fastidiousness of the times. Why,' says a member, 'they'll soon say marriage is improper.' 'No, no,' replies Douglas Jerrold, 'they'll always consider marriage good breeding.' "A stormy discussion ensues, during which a gentleman rises to settle the matter in dispute. Waving his hands majestically over the excited disputants, he begins: Gentlemen, all I want is common sense 'Exactly,' Douglas Jerrold interrupts; that is precisely what you do want.' The discussion is lost in a burst of laughter. "The talk lightly passes to writings of a certain Scot. A member holds that the Scot's name should be handed down to a grateful posterity. D. J.: 'I quite agree with you that he should have an itch in the Temple of Fame.' "Brown drops in. Brown is said by all his friends to be the toady of Jones. The appearance of Jones in a room is the proof that Brown is in the passage. When Jones has the influenza, Brown dutifully catches a cold in the head. D. J. to Brown: 'Have you heard the rumour that's flying about town?' 'No.' 'Well, they say Jones pays the dog-tax for you.' 66 Douglas Jerrold is seriously disappointed with a certain book written by one of his friends, and has expressed his disappointment.-Friend: 'I hear you said was the worst book I ever wrote.'-Jerrold: 'No, I didn't. I said it was the worst book anybody ever wrote.' "Of Nelson he would talk by the hour, and some of his more passionate articles were written to scathe the government that left Horatia-Nelson's legacy to his country-in want. It was difficult to persuade him, nevertheless, that a man did wisely in sending his son to sea. A friend called on him one day to introduce a youth, who, smitten with a love for the salt, was about to abandon a position he held in a silk manufacturer's establishment for the cockpit. "Humph!' said the ex-midshipman of the Ernest; so you're going to sea. To what department of industry, may I inquire, do you now give your exertions?' Silk,' briefly responded the youth. 'Well, go to sea, and it will be worsted."" A supper of sheep's heads is proposed, and presently served. One gentleman present is particularly enthusiastic on the excellence of the dish, and, as he throws down his knife and fork, exclaims, "Well, sheep's heads for ever, say I!"Jerrold: "There's egotism!" From Our Club, a social weekly gathering, which Douglas Jerrold attended only three weeks before his death, some of his best sayings went forth to the world. Here, when some member, hearing an air mentioned, exclaimed, "That always carries me away when I hear it." "Can nobody whistle it?" asked Douglas Jerrold. 66 My father ordered a bottle of old port; not elder port," he said. Asking about the talent of a young painter, his companion declared that the youth was mediocre. "Oh!" was the reply; "the very worst ochre an artist can set to work with." Walking to the club, with a friend, from the theatre, some intoxicated young gentlemen reeled up to the dramatist, and said, "Can you tell us the way to the Judge and Jury?" "Keep on as you are, young gentlemen," was the reply; (6 you're sure to overtake them." He took the chair at one of the anniversary dinners of the Eclectic Club-a debating society, consisting of young barristers, authors, and artists. The pièce de resistance had been a saddle of mutton. After dinner, the chairman rose and said, "Well, gentlemen, I trust that the noble saddle we have eaten has grown a woolsack for one among you." Jerrold defined dogmatism as "puppyism come to maturity." At a dinner of artists, a barrister present, having his health drunk in connexion with the law, began an embarrassed answer, by saying he did not see how the law could be considered as one of the arts, when Jerrold jerked in the word black, and threw the whole company into convulsions. "Have you any railway shares?" said Jerrold to a friend, during the mania of 1846. "No," was the reply. "When a river of gold is running by your door," rejoined Jerrold, "why not put out your hat, and take a dip?" When, in 1854, Jerrold proposed to visit Venice, the Austrian Kaiser forbad. "We have orders not to admit you into any part of the Austrian Empire," said the official to whom Jerrold applied for a passport. "That shows your weakness, not my strength," said the applicant. "I should, perhaps, not have known dear old Jeremy Taylor so well," said Jerrold to a friend, "if I had been taught as a boy what they teach all the tailors now." ABSENCE OF MIND. Lessing, the German author, was, in his old age, subject to extraordinary fits of abstraction. On his return home, one evening, after he had knocked at his door, the servant looked out of the window to see who was there. Not recognising his master in the dark, and mistaking him for a stranger, he called out, "The professor is not at home." " Oh, very well," replied Lessing; no matter-I'll call another time!" 66 NICE EVASION. The subject of M. Thiers's parentage was once discussed in his presence, and the question was mooted whether his mother was not a cusiniere (a cook). "She was," he said, apologetically adding, with the view of showing she deserved a higher destiny, "but I assure you she was a very bad one." MACAULAY'S BOYHOOD. Many a strong passage in Lord Macaulay's writings shows how familiar he had been with Scripture phraseology in early youth. He used himself to tell a droll story of a scene in his nursery. For every one who came to his father's house he had a Biblical nickname: Moses, Holofernes, Melchisedek, and the like. One visitor he called The Beast. Kind mamma, prudent papa, frowned at their precocious child, and set their brows against this offensive name; but Thomas stuck to his point. Next time, the Beast made a morning call, the boy ran to the window which hung over the street-to turn back laughing, crowing with excitement and delight. "Look here, mother," cries the child, "you see I am right. Look, look at the number of the Beast!" Mrs. Macaulay glanced at the hackney-coach; and, behold, its number was 666! ELECTION BALLAD, BY MACAULAY. Almost the only sprightly specimen of the verse of Macaulay is the following Ballad, which might have been mistaken at the time, as we know from a passage of Moore's Diary that it was, for a political squib of that superlative song-writer. The passage will be found under the date June, 1831. Moore says:"Went (Lord John and I together in a hackney-coach) to breakfast with Rogers. The party, besides ourselves, Macaulay, Luttrell, and Campbell. Macaulay gave us an account of the state of the Monothelite controversy, as revived at present among some of the fanatics of the day. . . In the course of conversation Campbell quoted a line ... "Ye diners out from whom we guard our spoons ;" and, looking over at me, said significantly, 'You ought to know that line.' I pleaded not guilty; upon which he said, It is a poem that appeared in the Times, which every one attributes to you.' But I again declared that I did not even remember it. Macaulay then broke silence, and said, to our general surprise, 'That is mine;' on which we all expressed a wish to have it recalled to our memories, and he repeated the whole of it. I then remembered having been much struck with it at the time, and said that there was another squib still better on the subject of William Bankes's candidateship for Cambridge, which so amused me when it appeared, and showed such power in that style of composition, that I wrote up to Barnes about it, and advised him by all means to secure that hand as an ally. 'That was mine also,' said Macaulay, thus discovering to us a new power, in addition to that varied store of talent which we had already known him to possess. The latter squib is the following: THE COUNTRY CLERGYMAN'S TRIP TO CAMBRIDGE. AN ELECTION BALLAD. (1827.) As I sate down to breakfast in state, At my living of Tithing-cum-Boring, With Betty beside me to wait, Came a rap that almost beat the door in. 1 Times journal. I laid down my basin of tea, And Betty ceased spreading the toast, 'As sure as a gun, Sir,' said she, 'That must be the knock of the post.' A letter--and free-bring it here I have no correspondent who franks. No! Yes! Can it be? Why, my dear, 'Tis our glorious, our protestant Bankes. 'Dear Sir, as I know you desire "That the Church should receive due protection, I humbly presume to require Your aid at the Cambridge election. 'It has lately been brought to my knowledge, To suppress each cathedral and college, To assist this detestable scheme Three nuncios from Rome are come over 'An army of grim Cordeliers, Well furnished with relics and vermin, 'The finance scheme of Canning contains And he means to devote all the gains Pray, don't let the news give you pain!— Is promised, I know for a fact, To an olive-faced Padre from Spain !' I read, and I felt my heart bleed, Sore wounded with horror and pity; To our Protestant champion's committee. They then, like high-principled Tories, |