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HUMOROUS SPEAK ER.
THE MOSQUITO'S SONG-A SOLILOQUY.-ANOX.
In the dreamy hour of night I'll hie,
In these I'll sport through summer night,
There's one I view with an evil eye;
Holds all entranced, I'll wing my flight,
There's a poet, I know, in the still midnight
And wearied of earth, in a world all his own,
But when a new image has broken on his sight,
And the long-courted vision shall vanish-while I,
But she shall not taste the gentle delight;
THE CONTEST UNEQUAL.-SYDNEY SMITH.
Mr. Bailiff, I have spoken so often on this subject, that I am sure both you and the gentlemen here present, will be obliged to me for saying but little, and that favor I am ag willing to confer, as you can be to receive it. I feel most deeply the event which has taken place, because, by putting the two houses of Parliament in collision with each other, it will impede the public business, and diminish the public prosperity. I feel it as a churchman, because I cannot but blush to see so many dignitaries of the church arrayed against the wishes and happiness of the people. I feel it more than all, because I believe will sow the seeds of deadly hatred between the aristocracy and the great mass of the people. The loss of the bill I do not feel, and for the best of all possible reasons—because I have not the slightest idea that it is lost. I have no more doubt, before the expiration of the winter, that this bill will pass, than I have that the annual tax bills will pass, and greater certainty than this no man can have, for Franklin tells us, there are but two things certain in this world-death and taxes. As for the possibility of the House of Lords preventing ere long a reform of Parliament, I hold it to be the most absurd notion that ever entered into human imagination. I do not mean to be disrespectful, but the attempt of the lords to stop the progress of reform, reminds me very forcibly of the great storm of Sidmouth, and of the conduct of the excellent Mrs. Partington on that occasion. In the winter of 1824, there set in a great flood upon
that town—the tide rose to an incredible height—the waves rushed in upon the houses, and everything was threatened with destruction. In the midst of this sublime and terrible storm, Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, was seen at the door of her house with mop and pattens, trundling the mop, squeezing out the sea water, and vigorously pushing away the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic was roused. Mrs. Partington's spirit was up; but I need not tell you that the contest was unequal. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs. Partington. She was excellent at a slop or a puddle, but she should not have meddled with a tempest. Gentlemen be at your easebe quiet and steady. You will beat Mrs. Partington.
PHAETHON, OR THE AMATEUR COACHMAN.—John G. SAXE.
DAN Phaëthon, --so the histories run,-
Now old Father Phoebus, ere railways begun
Running, they say,
Trips every day,
The youngster said,
Nay Phaëton don't
I beg you won't -
Besides, you see,
Twill really be
Desist, my child,
The cattle are wild,
Miss Prudence has just run away,
And Miss Steady assisted her flight.
No misapprehensions be making;
There's no harm, I should hope, in mis-taking !
HOW TO SELL A HORSE.-ANON.
“ Mr. Coper, as kept the Red Lion Yard, in High street, was the best to sell a horse I ever know'd, sir, and I know'd some good 'uns, I have; but he was the best. He'd look at you as tho' butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, and his small wall eyes seemed to have no more life in 'em than a dead whiting's. My master, Captain Simple, stood his hosses there; and, o course, I saw a good deal of Mr. Coper. One day, a gent came to look at the stable, and seé if he could buy a hoss. Coper saw in a minit that he knew nothing about horse-flesh, and so was uncommon civil. The first thing he showed him was a great grey coach-hoss, about seventeen hands and an inch, with a shoulder like a Erkilus."
suppose you mean Hercules ?" “I suppose I do, sir. The gent was a little man; so, o' course, the grey was took in agen, and a Suffolk punch cob, that 'ud a done for a bishop, was then run up the yard. But, lor! the little gent's legs 'ud never have been of any use to him; they'd a stuck out on each side, like a curricle-bar. So he wouldn't do. Coper show'd him three or four others, good things in their way, but not at all suited to the gent. At last Coper says to him, with a sort o' sigh, Well, sir, I'm afear'd we shan't make a deal of it to-day, sir. You're wery particular, as you've a right to be, and I'll look about; and if I can find one that I think 'll do, I'll call on you.' By this time he had walked the gent down the stable to opposite a stall where was a brown hoss, fifteen hands, or about. Now, there 'ud be the thing to suit you, sir,' says he; and I only wish I could find