The youth did ride, and soon they met;
He tried to stop John's horse

By seizing fast the flowing rein,
But only made things worse:

For, not performing what he meant,
And gladly would have done,
He thereby frighted Gilpin's horse,
And made him faster run.

Away went Gilpin—and away
Went post-boy at his heels;

The post-boy's horse right glad to miss
The lumber of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road,
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With post-boy scamp'ring in the rear,

They rais'd the hue and cry.

Stop thief!-stop thief!—a highwayman!"

Not one of them was mute;

So they, and all that pass'd that way,

Soon join'd in the pursuit.

But all the turnpike-gates again

Flew open in short space;
The men still thinking, as before,
That Gilpin rode a race:

And so he did, and won it too,

For he got first to town;

Nor stopp'd till where he first got up
He did again get down.

A letter was directed to the Clown at CoventGarden, whether from a love of pun, or a want of literature, is uncertain :-Mr. Grim-all-day.

When Garrick, in the zenith of his powers, took his friend Doctor Johnson to view his valuable estates, which, by a late decree, his widow has been ejected from, the emotion they caused in the mind of the great moralist was singular"Ah! David, David, David, (exclaimed the Doctor, tapping the shoulder of our immortal Roscius), these are the things which make a deathbed terrible !"

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Anecdote of the late Czar Peter.-Peter had well studied the distinguishing character of the individuals of the European nations: and being one day at the Admiralty, where various places were about to be given to foreigners, he thus spoke:"Let the Frenchmen have good pay; they are men of pleasure, and will spend their earnings. The case is similar with the Germans; they love good eating, and will not save much. The Englishman should have more than either, for they will enjoy themselves, whether they can

afford to do so or not. The Dutch will subsist on little, they will save. Give still less to the Italians, for they will spend nothing, but take all to their dear Italy."

A poor Lord of the Manor of the North of England, who had rather an extensive rabbitwarren on his estate, was particularly partial to the company of the Curate of the parish, and frequently invited him to dine at his house; and though the table was but scantily furnished with fish, fowl, or butchers meat, it was most amply supplied with rabbits, dressed in various ways. The Curate, who was not overburthened with riches, and who found it convenient occasionally to accept the Lord of the Manor's invitation, grew, in the course of time, rather cloyed of his usual fare. Being one day asked by his host to return thanks, on the removal of the cloth, he rose, and complied in the following terms:

"For rabbits hot, for rabbits cold;

For rabbits young, for rabbits old;
For rabbits tender, rabbits tough,

We thank thee, Lord, we've had enough.”

The constable of Wolverhampton, when taking down the names for the late militia ballot, called at the house of an old man named Thomas Evans, who kept an ass to carry coals from the pit for

sale; and inquiring of his wife, a very deaf old woman, if she had a son ? She answered,

through mistaking the question, "Hey, what do you say?-there's our Tommy," the name by which they called the ass. The constable asked

her how old Tommy was? She replied, about twenty. The name of Tommy Evans was put the list; and it so happened that Tommy was drawn. When the constable went to serve the summons, saying he had a bit of paper for Tommy, the old woman said he was in the garden, and shewed the place where he was feeding. The peace-officer's chagrin, and the merriment of the town at his expence, when the donkey was actually dressed up with the cockades of the recruits, and led through the streets, may be readily conceived.

Epitaph on a celebrated Bruiser.

Farewell, ye honours of my brow!
Victorious wreaths, farewell!

One trip from Death has laid me low,
By whom such numbers fell!

Yet bravely I'll dispute the prize,
Nor yield, though out of breath;
"Tis but a fall!-I yet shall rise,

And conquer-even death!

Epitaph on the Tomb Stone of a Lady of Quality in

Lincoln Cathedral.

Here is entombed

Dame Harriot, daughter of Lieutenant General
CHURCHILL:

Wife, in her first marriage, to Sir Everard Fawkener, Kt.
In her second to Governor Pownall.

She died February the 6th, 1777, aged 51. Her person was that of animated, animating beauty, With a complexion of the most exquisite brilliancy, Unfaded when she fell!

Her understanding was of such quickness and reach of

thought,

That her knowledge, although she had learning,
Was instant and original;

Her heart, warmed with universal benevolence,
To the highest degree of sensibility,
Had a ready tear for pity,

Her love, to those who were blessed with it,
Was happiness!

Her sentiments were correct, refined, elevated;

Her manners so chearful, elegant, and winning-amiable,
That while she was admired, she was beloved :
And while she enlightened, and enlivened,

She was the delight of the world in which she liv'd!
She was formed for life:

She was prepared for death:

Which being

A gentle wafting to immortality,

She lives

Where life is real!