"It's mesel' as could say that, sure. But s'p'osin' it were a baby, instead-the sweet craithur-what would I be doin' wuth him for the cowld he has?"

"Well," continued the doctor, considerately, "if it were a child, Michael, perhaps I should recommend a mustard poultice for his back, and that his feet be placed in hot water."

"It's much obleeged to you, docthur, I am," responded Mike, as the physician passed along; and he entered his domicil.

"Biddy," he added, addressing his good woman, "we'll cure the pig, so we will." And in a little time the snaizing porker was enveloped in a strong mustard poultice, from his ears to his tail! Notwithstanding his struggles and his wheezings, and torture from the action of the unyielding plaster, a tub of almost boiling water was prepared, and into it poor piggy was soused above his knees. The result may be easily conceived!

Next morning, bright and early, Michael stood at his little gate once more, awaiting the coming of the doctor, who soon made his appearance, as usual.

"Good morning, Mike; how's the pig?"

"O, be garrah, docthur! It was mighty oncivil in ye to be trating a neighbor that way, so it was."

"Why, what has happened, Michael ?”

Happened—is it! I put the poultis on the pig, so I did— an' he squailed bloody murther to be sure; an' the wull came off his back, from nape to dock."

"What?"

"An thin I put the swait baist's feet into the hot wathur, as ye bid me do, an' be jabers! in five minutes the hoofs drapt clain off o' him intirely, too! so they did."

SIGNS OF A STORM.-ANON.

THE hollow winds begin to blow,
The clouds look black, the grass is low;

The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep,
And spiders from their cobwebs peep.
Last night the sun went pale to bed,
The moon in haloes hid her head;
The boding shepherd heaves a sigh,
For, see! a rainbow spans the sky!
The walls are damp, the ditches smell,
Closed is the light-red pimpernel.

Hark! how the chairs and tables crack!
Old Betty's joints are on the rack;

Her corns with shooting pains torment her,
And to her bed untimely sent her;

Loud quack the ducks, the sea-fowls cry,
The distant hills are looking nigh.
How restless are the snorting swine!
The busy flies disturb the kine;
Low o'er the grass the swallow wings;
The cricket, too, how sharp he sings!
Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws,
Sits wiping o'er her whiskered jaws;
The smoke from chimneys right ascends,
Then spreading back to earth it bends;
The wind unsteady, veers around,
Or setting in the south is found;
Through the clear stream the fishes rise,
And nimbly catch the cautious flies.
The glow-worms, numerous, clear and bright,
Illumed the dewy hill last night;
At dusk the squalid toad was seen,
Like quadruped, stalk o'er the green.
The whirling wind the dust obeys,
And in the rapid eddy plays;
The frog has changed his yellow vest,
And in a russet coat is dress'd;

The sky is green, the air is still,

The mellow blackbird's voice is shrill;

The dog, so alter'd in his taste,
Quits mutton-bones on grass to feast.
Behold the rooks, how odd their flight!
They imitate the gliding kite,
And seem precipitate to fall,
As if they felt the piercing ball.
The tender colts on back do lie,
Nor heed the trav'ler passing by;
In fiery red the sun did rise,

Then wades through clouds to meet the skies,
Twill surely rain-we see't with sorrow—
No working in the fields to-morrow.

SPEECH OF BUZFUZ, IN THE CASE OF BARDELL VERSUS PICKWICK.-DICKENS.

You have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen of the jury, that this is an action for a breach of promise of marriage, in which the damages are laid at fifteen hundred pounds. The plaintiff, gentlemen, is a widow--yes, gentlemen, a widow. The late Mr. Bardell, some time before his death, became the father, gentleman, of a little boy. With this little boy, the only pledge of her departed exciseman, Mrs. Bardell shrunk from the world, and courted the retirement and tranquillity of Goswell street; and here she placed in her front parlor window a written placard, bearing this inscription: "Apartments, furnished, for a single gentleman. Inquire within." Mrs. Bardell's opinions of the opposite sex, gentlemen, were derived from a long contemplation of the inestimable qualities of her lost husband. She had no fear-she had no distrust-all was confidence and reliance. "Mr. Bardell," said the widow," was a man of honor,—Mr. Bardell was a man of his word,—Mr. Bardell was no deceiver,--Mr. Bardell was once a single gentleman himself; to single gentlemen I look for protection, for assistance, for comfort and consolation:-in single gentle

men I shall perpetually see something to remind me of what Mr. Bardell was, when he first won my young and untried affections; to a single gentleman, then, shall my lodgings be let." Actuated by this beautiful and touching impulse, (among the best impulses of our imperfect nature, gentlemen,) the lonely and desolate widow dried her tears, furnished her first floor, caught her innocent boy to her maternal bosom, and put the bill up in her parlor window. Did it remain there long? No. The serpent was on the watch; the train was laid; the mine was preparing; the sapper and miner was at work! Before the bill had been in the parlor window three daysthree days, gentlemen--a being, erect upon two legs, and bearing all the outward semblance of a man, and not of a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. Bardell's house. He inquired within; he took the lodgings; and on the very next day, he entered into possession of them. This man was PickwickPickwick, the defendant.

Of this man I will say little. The subject presents but few attractions; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are you, gentlemen, the men, to delight in the contemplation of revolting heartlessness, and of systematic villany. I say systematic villany, gentlemen; and when I say systematic villany, let me tell the defendant, Pickwick, if he be in court, as I am informed he is, that it would have been more decent in him, more becoming, if he had stopped away. Let me tell him, further, that a counsel, in his discharge of his duty, is neither to be intimidated, nor bullied, nor put down; and that any attempt to do either the one or the other will recoil on the head of the attempter, be he plaintiff, or be he defendant; be his name Pickwick, or Noakes, or Stoakes, or Stiles, or Brown, or Thompson.

I shall show you, gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick continued to reside constantly, and without interruption or intermission, at Mrs. Bardell's house. I shall show you that Mrs. Bardell, during the whole of that time, waited on him, attended to his comforts, cooked his meals, looked out his linen for the washerwoman when it went abroad, darned, aired, and

prepared it for wear when it came home; and, in short, enjoyed his fullest trust and confidence. I shall show you that on many occasions he gave half-pence, and on some occasions even sixpence, to her little boy. I shall prove to you that on one occasion, when he returned from the country, he distinctly and in terms offered her marriage; previously, however, taking special care that there should be no witnesses to their solemn contract. And I am in a situation to prove to you, on the testimony of three of his own friends-most unwilling witnesses, gentlemen-most unwilling witnesses-that on that morning, he was discovered by them holding the plaintiff in his arms, and soothing her agitation by his caresses and endearments.

And now, gentlemen, but one word more. Two letters have passed between these parties-letters that must be viewed with a cautious and suspicious eye-letters that were evidently intended, at the time, by Pickwick, to mislead and delude any third parties into whose hands they might fall. Let me read the first:-"Garraway's, twelve o'clock. Dear Mrs. B.: Chops and tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick." Gentlemen, what does this mean? Chops and tomato sauce! Yours, Pickwick ! Chops!-gracious fathers!-and tomato sauce! Gentlemen, is the happiness of a sensitive and confiding female to be trifled away by such shallow artifices as these? The next has no date whatever, which is in itself suspicious. "Dear Slow coach." And then follows this very remarkable expression-" Don't trouble yourself about the warming-pan." The warming-pan! Why, gentlemen, who does trouble himself about a warming. pan? Why is Mrs. Bardell so earnestly entreated not to agitate herself about this warming-pan, unless (as is no doubt the case) it is a mere cover for hidden fire-a mere substitute for some endearing word or promise, agreeably to a preconcerted system of correspondence, artfully contrived by Pickwick with a view to his contemplated desertion? And what does this allusion to the slow coach mean? For aught I know, it may be a reference to Pickwick himself, who has most unquestionably been a criminally slow coach during the whole

Mrs. B. I shall not be at home to-morrow.