pence, and he wrote me down my destructions.'

The gentleman read his destructions, as he called them, which were as follows: "You must go to the Temple, apply to a civilian, anů tell him that your father died intestate, or without a will, that he has left five children, all infantine, besides yourself; and that you wish to know if you can't be his executor." Well, what did you do?" said the gentleman. "Why, sir," said he, "I went to the Temple, and I knocked at the door, and the gentleman cum'd out himsen; and I said 'Pray, sir, arn't you a silly villain?' and he ax'd me if I cum'd to insult him; and I said, why, yes, I partly cum'd on purpose: I cum'd to insult you to know what I am to do, for my father died detested and against his will, and left five young infidels besides mysen, and I am cum'd to know if I can't be his executioner."

EZEKIEL'S VISIT TO DEACON STOKES.-ANON.

ONE Asa Stokes,

One of those men whom every thing provokes,
A surly-tempered, evil-minded, bearish,

Ill-natured kind of being;

He was the deacon of the parish,

And had the overseeing

Of some small matters, such as the ringing

Of the church-bell, and took the lead in singing.

Well, Deacon Stokes had gone to bed, one night,
About eleven or before,

'Twas in December, if my memory's right,
In '24.

'Twas cold enough to make a Russian shiver;
I think I never

Knew one

Colder than this,-in faith, it was a blue one!
As by the Almanac foretold, 'twas

A real Lapland night. O dear! how cold 'twas!

There was a chap about there named Ezekiel,
A clever, good-for-nothing fellow,

Who very often used to get quite mellow;

Of whom the Deacon always used to speak ill;
For he was fond of cracking jokes

On Deacon Stokes,

To show on

What terms he stood among the women folks,
And so on.

It came to pass that on the night I speak of,
Ezekiel left the tavern bar-room, where
He spent the evening, for the sake of
Drowning his care,

By partaking

Of the merry-making

And enjoyment

Of some good fellows there, whose sole employment Was, on all kinds of weather,

On every night,

By early candle light,

To get together

Reading the papers, smoking pipes and chewing,
Telling long yarns, and pouring down the ruin.

Pretty well corned, and up to every thing,
Drunk as a lord, and happy as a king,
Blue as a razor, from his midnight revel,
Not fearing muskets, women, or the devil;
With a light heart,—

Much lighter than a feather,

With a light soul

That spurned the freezing weather,

And with a head

Ten times as light as either;

And a purse, perhaps, as light as all together,

On went Ezekiel, with a great expansion

Of thought,

Until he brought

Up at a post before the Deacon's mansion.

With one arm around the post, awhile he stood

In thoughtful mood,

With one eye turned

Up toward the window where,

With feeble glare,

A candle burned;
Then with a serious

Face, and a grave, mysterious

Shake of the head,

Ezekiel said,

(His right eye once more thrown

Upon the beacon

That from the window shone,)

"I'll start the Deacon!"

Rap, rap, rap, rap, went Deacon Stoke's knocker.
But no one stirred; rap, rap, it went again :
"By George, it must be after ten, or

They must take an early hour for turning in."
Rap, rap, rap, rap,-" My conscience, how they keep
A fellow waiting-Patience, how they sleep!

The Deacon then began to be alarmed,

And in amazement

Threw up the casement;

And with cap on head,

Of fiery red,

Demanded what the cause was of the riot,
That thus disturbed his quiet.

"Quite cool this evening, Deacon Stokes," replied The voice below. "Well, sir, what is the matter ?" "Quite chilly, Deacon; how your teeth do chatter!"

"You vagabond, a pretty time you have chosen
To show your wit; for I am almost frozen;
Be off, or I will put the lash on!"

"Why, bless you, Deacon, don't be in a passion !"
'Twas all in vain

To speak again,

For with the Deacon's threat about the lash,
Down went the sash.

Rap, rap, rap, rap, the knocker went again,
And neither of them was a very light rap;

Thump, thump, against the door went Ezekiel's cane, And that once more brought Deacon Stokes's night-cap.

"Very cold weather, Deacon Stokes, to-night !”

Give you a warming, and should serve you right;

You villain, it is time to end the hoax !"

Why, bless your soul and body, Deacon Stokes, Don't be so cross,

When I've come here,

In this severe

Night, which is cold enough to kill a horse,

For your advice

Upon a very difficult and nice

Question. Now, bless you,

Do make haste and dress you."

"Well, well, out with it, if it must be so;

Be quick about it,

I'm very cold."

"Well, Deacon, I don't doubt it.

In a few words the matter can be told.

Deacon, the cause is this: I want to know

If this cold weather lasts all summer here,

What time will green peas come along next year?"

EPITAPH ON JOSEPH BLACKETT, A SHOEMAKER.-BYRON.

STRANGER! behold, interred together,

The souls of learning and of leather.
Poor Joe is gone, but left his all :
You'll find his relics in a stall.

Ilis works were neat, and often found
Well stitched, and with morocco bound.
Tread lightly-where the bard is laid,
He can not mend the shoe he made;
Yet is he happy in his hole,
With verse immortal as his sole.
But still to business he held fast,
And stuck to Phoebus to the last.
Then who shall say so good a fellow
Was only "leather and prunella ?”
For character-he did not lack it;

And, if he did, 'twere shame to "Black-it."

THE PHILOSOPHER'S DOMICILE-ANON.

My dwelling is ample,

And I've set an example

For lovers of water to follow ;

If

my home you should ask,

I have drained out a cask,

And I dwell in a cooling hollow!
A disciple am I of Diogenes-
O! his tub a most classical lodging is!
'Tis a beautiful alcove for thinking;
'Tis besides a cool alcove for drinking:
Moreover, the parish throughout
You can readily roll it about.
O! the birth

For a lover of mirth

To revel in jokes and to lodge in ease,
Is the classical tub of Diogenes!