O vet'ran chaw! thy fibres' savoury store, While aught romain'd to chew, thy master chew'd;

Then cast thee here, when all thy juice was o'er,

Emblem of selfish man's ingratitude! A happy man, O cast-off Quid! is he

Who, like to thee, has comforted the poor : Happy his age, who knows himself like thee; Thou didst thy duty-man can do no more.

Humour.

THE SAILOR'S MARRIAGE. Entering the only house of entertainment in the village, I was almost stunned with the rude and boisterous mirth of the company it contained. At the head of a number of peasants, who were seated round a table, on which was a large bowl of punch, presided one af Neptune's sons, and by his side sat a plump, rosy-face girl, covered with ribbons, medals, and rings.

" and

"Avast, there!" cried the sailor, bring to.-Shiver me if any man takes any thing aboard, that I don't pay for. Come, my lad, bring yourself to an anchor, You shall mess with me to-day, by G-d.'

I was seated, accordingly, at the table, and, by compulsion, drank a bumper to the health of the couple about to be married.

Yes," exclaimed the tar, throwing an arm round his neighbour's neck, and taking a reciprocated smack that went off like a fourteen-pounder; "Bet and I are going to grapple:-we only wait for the parson to give the signal, and then

Here he was interrupted by the parishclerk, with red hair as long and as lank as a pound of candles, who came to let the party know that the clergyman expected them at church. I followed the procession, and witnessed the scene that ensued. Every thing was quiet and orderly till the parson came to

I, Richard Sprit, take thee, Elizabeth Bumfield, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,”—at which words the sailor made a dead stand. "Say after me," said the parson. "D~d if I do,” cried he, *Avast there.-What, do you think I'm stich a lubber as all that comes to ?"

They will enact it! Well, thought I,
The famous play I need not buy ;
For three fair shillings, ráng'd in hand,
The portals of the pit expand;
And I, in critic honours bless'd,
May kill two birds-you know the rest.
Escap'd from thence, I must bemoatt
The plan my thrift had hit upon,
A head-ache gain'd; my purpose cross'd,
And-store of good waste paper lost.

Tales:

SIR SIMON AND HODGE; Or, the Additional Wrinkle.

BY SIR JOHN RAMSEY.

As Hodge, one day, was swelt'ring in the

sun--

A dry old dog, yet a true child of fun!---
Sir Simón came, to see his man so blithe,
Panting beneath the labour of his scythe":
For Hodge had risen ere the early dawn,
And now 'twas noon, nor yet clean shaved
the lawn.

Much had he done, which he was pleas'd to view,

But curs'd the little that remained to do!
His arms were weary, and his aged back
Seem'd, ev'ry sinew, at each bend, to crack;
At ev'ry stroke, the drops of sweat fast pace
Down the rough furrows of his time-plough'd
face;

And still he stops, though he can scarcely stand,

To sweep his dewy forehead with his hand ! With frequent rubbings, whets his ling'ting blade,

And sighs for ev'ning, and the fresh'ning shade.

Now, old Sir Simon was as queer a soul As Hodge himself, but nothing like so droll : He had some wit, and thought that he had more;

As

many a greater wit has done beforeAnd many another, we may well maintain Has since done, too, and still will do again. "Hodge," says Sir Simon, "you can't well be dry,

For you are wet enough, I see, to fry :
Now, had you been but dry enough to burn
A jug of ale had done you no ill-turn!"
Hodge smil❜d at very mention of the nappy;
But, at the sight, was wondrously more happy:
For, now, Sir Simon, having had his joke,
Drew the full pitcher from beneath his cloak.

Hodge seiz'd, with eager hand, the foaming prize;

And, heav'n-ward raising both his grateful eyes,

Fast, down his throat, the welcome liquor

pours;

Nor heeds his master, loudly though he roars— "Stop, Hodge! why, Hodge; zounds! Hodge, why don't you stop?

"I'm thirsty, too; zounds! Hodge, leave me a drop !"

Sir Simon bawl'd, as loud as he could bawl; But Hodgene'er stopp'd, till he had swallow'd

all.

As slowly, now, he panting gains his breath, That seem'd awhlle o'er-match'd by struggling

Death

"Hodge,” says Sir Simon, “prythee canst not hear?

"Why, zounds! I bade thee not drink all the beer!

"Deuce take thy throat, mine's hoarse with so much bawl!

"I've half a mind to ram down jug and all. "I told thee I was dry, as well as thee:

"But not a drop, plague take thee, 's left for me!"

Hodge, now, affected wonderful surprise, And like a pig's, just stuck, appear'd his eyes→→→ "Lord, Sir," says he, and seemed to be contrite,

Tho' ben't, by trick, to pacify the knight-
"Ise be main sorry thus to give offence:
"But to a person of your worship's sense,
"Ise need not say, for that would be absurd,
"While a man drinks, he ne'er can hear one
word!"

Not hear, while drinking?" straight Sir
Simon cries;

Fill'd, in his turn, with a stuck pig's surprise: Why, sure-why, sure, Hodge-that can never be

"Egad, I'll fetch another jug, and see.

Away the knight, with his best speed, now went,

To find the truth, as told by Hodge, intent: And Hodge, mean time, contriv'd the means to make

Sir Simon, what he said, for gospel take.

"Now, Hodge," the knight returning, cried, "we'll try

"If what you tell me truth be, or a lie, "I'll drink, and you must bellow-Stop, stop, stop!

"Do pray,Sir,you may add, leave me a drop." This, when I hear, I certainly will do ; "So, as I drink, remember, Hodge, bawl you."

Sir Simon heav'd the pitcher to his head? Hodge op'd his mouth, but not a word he said: Yet gap'd so wide, there seem'd abundant fear The fellow meant to tear from ear to ear. "This truth, so strange," to Hodge Sir Simon cried,

"I ne'er could have believ'd, had I not tried!" “Thus, Hodge, it is, though life wears fast

away,

"Wiser, and wiser, we grow ev'ry day! "This time thou hadst, I fairly own, most brains;

"So freely take the liquor for thy pains."

Hodge thus got paid, for playing off his wit;. And pleas'd his master was, though he was bit : Convinc'd that he had gain'd a wrinkle more; No matter where-than e'er he had before!

THE DEAD SHOT.

BY THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD.

(Concluded from page 91.)

It is most generally believed, that whe

Edward fired at the pack. he had not the

most distant idea of shooting a man, but seeing Alice so jealous of it, he thought the Colonel would approve of his intrepidity, and protect him from being wronged by the pedlar; and besides he had never got a chance of a shot at so large a thing in his life, and was curious to see how many folds of the pedlar's fine haberdashery ware Copenhagen would drive the drops through, so that when the stream of blood burst from the pack, accompanied with the dying groans of a human being, Edward was certainly taken by surprise, and quite confounded; he indeed asserted, as long as he lived, that he saw something stirring in the pack, but his eagerness to shoot, and his terror on seeing what he had done, which was no more than what he might have expected, had he been certain he saw the pack moving, makes this assertion rather doubtful. They made all possible expedition in extricating him, intending to call medical assistance, but it was too late, the vital spark was gone for ever. "Alas!" said old Richard, heaving a sigh, "poor man-'tis all over with him! I wish he had lived a little longer to have repented of this, for he has surely died in a bad cause. Poor man! he was somebody's son, and no doubt, dear to them, and nobody can tell how small a crime this hath, by a regular gradation, become the fruits of," Richard came twice across his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, for he still wanted the coat: a thought of a tender nature shot through his heart. "Alas," said he, "if his parents are alive, how will their hearts bear this? Poor things!" said Richard, weeping outright-" Poor things! God pity them."

ances, but thanks to our kind maker and preserver, that he was discovered, else it is probable, that none of us would have seen the light of a new day." These moral reflections, from the mouth of old Richard, by degrees raised the spirits of Edward; he was bewildered in uncertainty, and had undoubtedly given himself up for lost; but he now began to discover that he had done a meritorious and manful action, and for the first time since he had fired the fatal shot, ventured to speak.-"Faith, it was lucky that I shot," said Edward; but neither of his companions answered either good or bad. Alice, though rather grown desperate, behaved and assisted better at this bloody affair than might have been expected. Edward surveyed the pistols all round, two of which were of curious workmanship. "But what do you think he was going to do with all these?" said Edward. "I think you need not ask that," Richard answered, “Faith, it was a mercy that I shot, after all," said Edward," for if we had loozed him out, we should have been all dead in a minute. I have given him a devil of a broadside, though. But look ye, Richard, Providence has directed me to the right, spot, for I might as well have lodged the contents of Copenhagen in one of these empty boxes." "It has been a deep laid scheme,” said Richard," to murder us and rob our master's house; there must certainly be more concerned in it than these two.”

Ideas beget ideas often quite different, and then others again in unspeakable gradation, which run through, and shift in the mind with as much ease and velocity as the streamers round the Pole in a frosty night. On Richard's mentioning more concerned, Edward instantaneously thought of a gang of thieves by night. What devastation be would work amongst them with Copenhagen: how he would make some of them lie with their guts in their arms, blow the nether jaw from one, and scatter the brains of another how Alice would scream, and Richard would pray, and every thing would go on like the work of a wind-mill. Oh, if he had nothing to do but to shoot! but the plaguy long time he always lost in loading, would subject him to a triple disadzantage in the battle. This immediately suggested the necessity of having assistance: two or three others to keep them at bay while he was loading. The impulse of the moment was Edward's monitor.

Off

he rau like fire, and warned a few of the Colonel's retainers, whom he knew kept guns about them; these again warned others, and at eight o'clock they had twenty-five men in the house, and sixteen loaded pieces, including Copenhagen, and the four pistols found on the deceased. These were

distributed amongst the front windows in the upper stories, and the rest, armed with pitchforks, old swords, and cudgels, kept watch below. Edward had taken care to place himself, with a comrade, at a window immediately facing the approach to the house, and now, backed as he was by such a strong party, grew quite impatient for another chance. All, however, remained quiet, until an hour past midnight, when it entered into his teeming brain to blow the thief's silver wind-call; so, without warning any of the rest, he set himself out of the window, and blew until all the woods and hills around yelled their echoes. This alarmed the guards, as not knowing the meaning of it; but how were they astonished at hearing it answered by another, at no great distance.

The state of anxiety into which this sudden and unforeseen circumstance threw our armed peasants, is more easily conceived than described. The fate of their master's great wealth, and even their own fates, was soon to be decided, and none but he who surveys and over-rules futurity, could tell what was to be the issue. Every breast heaved quicker; every breath was cut and Buttered by the palpitations of an adjoining heart; every gun was cocked, and pointed towards the court-gate; every orb of vision was strained to discover the approaching foe, by the dim light of the starry canopy, and every ear expanded to catch the distant sounds as they floated on the slow frosty breeze.

The suspense was not of long continuance. In less than five minutes the trampling of horses was heard, which increased as they approached, to the noise of thunder, and, in due course, a body of men on horseback, according to their account exceeding their own number, came up at a brisk trot, and began to enter the court-gate. Edward, unable to restrain himself any longer, fired Copenhagen in their faces; one of the foremost dropped, and his horse made a spring to the halldoor. This discharge was rather prema ture, as the wall still shielded a part of the gang from the bulk of the windows it was, however, the watch-word to all the rest, and in the course of two seconds, the whole sixteen guns were discharged at them. Before the smoke dispersed they were all fled like fire, no doubt greatly amazed at the reception they got. Edward and his comrade ran down stairs to see how matters stood, for it was their opinion that they had shot them every one, and that their horses had taken fright at the noise, and galloped off without them; but the club below warmly protested against

:

opening any of the doors until day, so they were obliged to betake themselves again to their birth up stairs.

Though our peasants had gathered up a little courage and confidence in themselves, their situation was curious, and to thein a dreadful one: they saw and heard a part of their fellow-creatures moaning and expiring in agonies in the open air, which was intensely cold, yet durst not go to administer the least relief, for fear of a surprise. An hour or two after the great brush, Edward and his messmate descended again, and begged hard for leave to go and reconnoitre for a few minutes, which, after some disputes, was granted. They found only four men fallen, who appeared to be all quite dead. One of them was lying within the porch. "Faith," said Edward, "here's the gentleman I shot." The other three were without, at a considerable distance from each other. They durst not follow their track farther, as the road entered betwixt groves of trees, but retreated into their posts without touching any thing.

About an hour before day, some of them were alarmed at hearing the sound of horses' feet a second time, which, however, was only indistinct, and heard at considerable intervals, and nothing of them ever appeared. Not long after this, Edward and his friend were almost frightened out of their wits, at seeing, as they thought, the dead man within-side the gate, endeavouring to get up and escape. They had seen him dead, lying surrounded by a deluge of congealed blood, and nothing but the ideas of ghosts and hobgoblins entering their brains, they were so indiscreet as never to think of firing, but ran and told the tale of horror to some of their neighbours. The sky was by this time grown so dark, that nothing could be seen with precision, and they all remained in anxious incertitude, until the opening day discovered to them, by degrees, that the corpses were all removed, and nothing left but large sheets of frozen blood; and the morning's alarms, by the ghost and the noise of horses, had been occasioned by some of the friends of the men that had fallen, conveying them away for fear of a discovery.

Next morning the news flew like fire, and the three servants were much incommoded by crowds of idle and officious people that gathered about the house, some enquiring after the smallest particulars, some begging to see the body that lay in the front parlour, and others pleasing themselves with poring over the sheets of crimson ice, and tracing the drops of blood