As to what we shall leave behind us-for myself, Bordeaux, I give to M. de Rouilleres, commandant of the maréchaussée at St. Dennis, my steel-mounted sword. He will recollect, that, last year, about this very day, as he was conducting a recruit, he had the civility to grant me a favour for a person of the name of St. Germain, who had offended him.

The maid of the inn will take my pocket and neckhanderchiefs, as well as the silk stockings which I now have on, and all my other linen whatever.

The rest of our effects will be sufficient to pay the expense of the useless law proceedings of which we shall be the subject.

The half-crown upon the table will pay for the last bottle of wine which we are going to drink.

At St. Dennis, Christmas-day, 1773.

BORDEAUX.

HUMAIN.

"During my residence at Guise, you honoured me with your friendship. It is time that I thank you. You have often told me I appeared displeased with my situation. It was sincere, but not absolutely true. I have since examined myself more seriously, and acknowledge myself entirely disgusted with every state of man, the whole world, and myself. From these discoveries a consequence should be drawn; if disgusted with the whole, renounce the whole. The calculation is not long. I have made it without the aid of geometry. In short, I am on the point of putting an end to the existence that I have possessed for near twenty years, fifteen of whi hi as been a burden to me; and, from the moment that I write a few grains of powder will destroy this moving mass of

"I asked leave of absence from my superiors, to have the pleasure of dying at my ease. They never condescended to give me an answer. This served to hasten my end

"I wrote to Bord to send you some detached pieces I left at Guise, which I beg you to accept. You will find they contain some well-chosen literature. These pieces will solicit for me a place in your remembrance,

"Adieu, my dear lieutenant! continue your esteem for St. Lambert and Dorat. As for the rest, skip from flower to flower, and acquire the sweets of all knowledge, and enjoy every pleasure. 'Pour moi, j'arrive au trou

Qui n'échappe ni sage ni fou,
Pour aller je ne sçais où.'

"If we exist after this life, and it is forbidden to quit it without permission, I will endeavour to procure one moment to inform you of it; if not, I should advise all these who are unhappy, which is by far the greatest part of mankind, to follow my example. "When you receive this letter, I shall have been dead at least 24 hours.

"With esteem, &c. "BORDEAUX."

NATIONAL VALOUR.

An Irishman fights before he reasons, a Scotchman reasons before he fights, an Englishman is not particular as to the order of precedence, but will do either to accommodate his customers. A modern general has said, that the best troops would be as follows: an Irishman half drunk, a Scotchman half starved, and an Englishman with his belly full.

BIPEDS.

The most disagreeable two-legged animal in the world, is a little great man; and the next, a little great man's factotum and friend.

LET WELL ALONE.

An Irishman being on a long journey in a part of the country where Mr. M'Adam's useful talents had never been exercised, at length came to a mile of excellent road. Over this he kept trotting his horse backwards and forwards, till some spectators, a little surprised at this singular mode of travelling, inquired the reason of it. "Indeed," said he, " and I like to let well alone, and from what I have seen of the road, I doubt whether I will find a better bit of ground all the way."

1. The BLACK LETTER SISTERHOOD. Q. Why do you give the office to women? 4. Because they have a fluent tongue, and a knack of scolding.

Q. How are they dressed?

A. In gowns and false hair.

Q. What are the principal orders?

A. Three-Writers, Talkers, and Hearers, which last are also called Deciders.

Q. What is their general business?

A. To discuss the mutual quarrels of the hogs, and to punish their affronts to any or all of the drivers.

Q. If two hogs quarrel, how do they apply to the sisterhood.

A. Each hog goes separately to a Writer.

Q. What does the Writer?

4. She goes to a Talker.

Q. What does the Talker.

A. She goes to a Hearer (or Decider.)

Q. What does the Hearer decide?

4. What she pleases.

Q. If a hog is decided to be in the right, what

is the consequence?

4. He is almost ruined.

Q. If in the wrong what?

4. He is quite ruined.

After some facetious sneers at the clergy, who are termed peace-makers, the dialogue proceeds. Q. How are these peace-makers rewarded? A. With our potatoes.

Q. What with all?

A. Ten per cent. only.

Q. Then you have still ninety left in the hundred? A. No we have but forty left.

B. What becomes of the odd fifty?

A. The drivers take them, partly as a small recompense for their trouble in protecting us, and partly to make money of them, for the prosecution of law-suits with the neighbouring farmers.

Q. You talk very sensibly for a hog; whence had you your information?

A. From a learned Pig.

The following is an answer to the question by

what ceremony the hog is disenchanted, and resumes his natural shape?

4. The hog that is going to be disenchanted, grovels before the Chief Driver, who holds an iron skewer over him, and gives him a smart blow on the shoulder, to remind him at once of his former subjection and future submission. Immediately he starts up, like the Devil from Ithuriel's spear, in his proper shape, and ever after goes about with a nick-name. He then beats his hogs without mercy, and when they implore his compassion, and beg him to recollect that he was once their Fellow Swine, he denies that ever he was a bog.

This curious dialogue thus concludes

Q. What is the general wish of the hogs at present?

Of native blush and rosy dye,

Time has her cheek bereft,
Which makes the prudent nymph supply
With paint th' injurious theft.
Her sparkling eyes she still retains,
And teeth, in good repair,

And her well-furnish'd front disdains
Το grace with borrow'd hair.
Of size she is nor short nor tall,

And does to fat incline

No more than what the French would call Aimable enbonpoint.

Farther he person to disclose

I leave-let it suffice

She has few faults but what she knows,
And can with skill disguise.
She many lovers has refus'd,
With many more comply'd,
Which like her clothes, when little us'd,
She always lays aside.

She's one who looks with great contempt
On each affected creature,
Whose nicety would seem exempt

From appetites of nature.

She thinks they want or health or sense
Who want an inclination,
And therefore never takes offence

At him who pleads his passion.
Whom she refuses she treats still

With so much sweet behaviour,
That her refusal, thro' her skill,

Looks almost like a favour.
Since she this softness can express,

To those whom she rejects,
She must be very fond, you'll guess,
Of such whom she affects.
But here our Doris far outgoes

All that her sex have done;
She no regard for custom knows,
Which reason bids her shun.
By reason her own reason's meant,
Or, if you please, her will;
For when this last is discontent,
The first is serv'd but ill,

Peculiar, therefore, is her way;
Whether by nature taught
I shall not undertake to say,
Or by experience bought.
But who o'er night obtain'd her grace,
She can next day disown;

And stare upon the strange man's face
As one she ne'er had known.
So well she can the truth disguise,
Such artful wonder frame,
-The lover or distrusts his eyes,

Or thinks 'twas all a dream.
Some censure this as lewd and low,
Who are to bounty blind;
For to forget what we bestow

Bespeaks a noble mind.

Doris our thanks nor asks nor needs,
For all her favours done;

From her love flows, as light proceeds,
Spontaneous from the sun.
On one or other still her fires
Display their genial force;
And she, like Sol, alone retires,
To shine elsewhere of course.

CONGREVE.

ON A CANAL CUT BY THE SIDE OF A RIVER AT SOUTHAMPTON.

Southampton's wise sons found their river so large, Though 'twould carry a ship, 'twould not carry a barge;

So they wisely determin'd to cut by its side,
A stinking canal where small vessels might glide,
Like the man who contriving a hole in his wall
To admit his two cats, the one large, t'other small,
When a great hole was made for the first to go
through,

Would a little one have for the little cat too.

IMPORTANT DISTINCTION IN ORTHOGRAPHY.

A gentleman, who had not long returned from France, was amusing a company with the details of the superstitious ceremony he had witnessed in that country of baptising a peal of cathedral bells, at which some members of the royal family had assisted as sponsors. "For my part," he con

tinued, "I should prefer this kind of sponsorship, in a conscientious point of view, to any other · I think I might safely engage for a bell's renouncing the devil, the world, and the flesh." "I presume, sir," replied one of his auditors, "from your expression of confidence on the subject, that you spell bell without the final e."

ACROSTIC.

Pray tell me, says Venus, one day to the Graces, (On a visit they came, and had just ta'en their places,)

Let me know why of late I can ne'er see your faces. Ladies, nothing I hope happen'd here to affright ye } You've had compliment cards ev'ry day to invite ye. Says Cupid, who guess'd their rebellious proceeding, Understand, dear Mamma! there's some mischief a-breeding;

There's a fair one at Lincoln, so finish'd a beauty, That your Loves and your Graces all swerve from their duty.

On my life, says Dame Venus, I'll not be thus put

on;

Now I think on't, last night some one call'd me Miss Sutton.

CHARACTERS OF THE DRAMA.

In a party of theatrical critics, the merits of different performers in the part of Giles, in the melo-drama of the Miller's Maid, formed the topic of discussion, and it was observed that, with one exception, all who had attempted it had "overstepped the modesty of nature." One of the com

pany observed that this had probably arisen from a confusion of names; and that the actors alluded to, in attempting Giles, had strayed into Giles Overreach.*