NATE hand you are thin, my darlint," said one bricklayer to another. 'You mount the ladder wid yer hod full of stones, and scatter them on the head of us as ye go, sir."

"Be me sowl, I'd carry yer own swate self up from de flags to de roof, an' down, widout yer being spilt."

"You couldn't do it, sir-I'd lay a thrifle ye couldn't."

"For a noggin I would thin-d'ye take me bet ?"

"Done! the noggin on't ye can't, sir."

"We'll thry that! bundle in !”

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Fearful as the experiment may seem, it was successful, and Jerry, once more landing the adventurous Pat on the pavement, said triumphantly

"The price of me stuff, if it's t'ye! Haven't I won it p

"Ye have, sir," admitted Pat, reluctantly lugging out his half-pence; "as it happens, I'm bate. I'd rather lose anything than my wager, an' jist as we were comin' by the second storey I was in great hopes."

WHEN General V- was quartered in a small town in Ireland, he and his lady were regularly besieged, whenever they got into their carriage, by an old beggar-woman, who kept her post at the door, assailing them daily with fresh importunities and fresh tales of distress.

At last the lady's charity and the general's patience were nearly exhausted, but their petitioner's wit was still in its pristine vigour.

One morning, at the accustomed hour, when the lady was getting into her carriage, the old woman began-"Agh! my lady; success to your ladyship and success to your honour's honour this morning, of all days in the year, for sure didn't I dream last

night that her ladyship gave me a pound of tay, and that your honour gave me a pound of tobacco."

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But, my good woman," said the general, "do you not know that dreams always go by the rule of contrary ?"

"Do they so, plase your honour ?" rejoined the old woman; "then it must be your honour that will give me the tay, and her ladyship that will give me the tobacco.'

The general being of Sterne's opinion that a bonmot is always worth something, even more than a pinch of snuff, gave the ingenious dreamer the value of her dream.

I DID meet with a few extraordinary mean men in Sydney. There was one, a merchant-prince, who made it a boast that he had never given away a shilling in his life. So far as I know, he only departed from his extreme selfishness on one occasion, and the circumstances are worth relating. One morning a poor Irishman stepped into his countinghouse, and, looking the picture of misery, said

"Oh! may it please yer honour, I've lost a pig-the only pig I had-and Misthress, the governess, has given me a pound, and sent me to you for another. She says you have enough gould to build a sty wid, and will be sure to give."

At first old Hard-fist refused, upon which |

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Oh, no! he wouldn't hear of it, but said with heartfelt sigh,

If Edith couldn't cure him, why, of course he-he must die.

What could a hapless

maiden do? this obsti

nate young man

Declared that he was vastly worse than when she first began;

And more than that, his
case took up too much
of Edith's leisure,
Though after all, of course
we know, 'twas duty,
and not pleasure.

She tried all sorts of medi-
cines-quassia, rhu-
barb, steel, quinine,
Paregoric, digitalis, senna,
salts, and chlorodyne;
She leech'd him and she
blister'd him, she gal-
vanised and bled;
No thanks to Doctor Edith
that her patient wasn't
dead!

One thing alone remained
to try to cure this

young deceiver,

Who suffered only all

along Love's intermit

tent fever;

He only asked, that modest cove, for Doctor Edith's self.

I won't reveal their love's young dream, or some

of you might scoff, But I know he popped the question instead of popping off;

I can't describe his foolish words, it never chanced to me

To make love to my doctor, and propose to an M.D. And then rang out the wedding bells in rhythmical acclaim;

The cake was indigestible, and Edith chang'd her

name.

She gave up all her doctor's tricks; 'twas certain, you must see,

She'd done enough in medicine in curing Mr. V.

POSTSCRIPT.

I find I've got a postscript; you'll be glad no doubt to hear,

As well as can expected be, just now, is Mrs. Vere;

And from her family and friends much approbation wins,

of twins!

I'm sure the way as she spoke for that young woman with a tearful eye quite made me take to her. But of all the creatures as ever I got under my roof it was that young woman as the lady said would prove a treasure.

Up in the mornin' she never was till I'd tore the bell down, and obliged for to take in the milk myself over and over agin, and in her bed, leastways ought to have been, by ten every night.

She come into my place with nothin' but what she stood up in and a blue bandbox tied up in a white 'ankercher, a-sayin' as her box would foller, and so it did, as was empty I could see through the man a-liftin' of it easy over the gate, and her

a-takin' it, a-thinkin' I didn't see through its comin' at dark, but I ain't got my eyes for nothin' with a gas-lamp in front of our door.

She says to me on the Monday follerin' as she come on the Saturday, "If you wouldn't mind lettin' me 'ave half-a-sovereign, as would enable me for to get a bit of long-cloth and some stockin's," as I did not withhold, through a knowin' what it is to be short myself.

I don't believe as she laid out a penny on it on things as is useful, for I ketched her a dryin' on her stockin's at the kitchen fire, as she was a-settin' without over her supper beer, as I allows her halfa-pint, and in my opinion quite enough too.

Eight pounds a-year was her wages, and our tea-pot, as I always makes good, and never one to take more than two cups and Brown three as relishes his tea to the last, and won't stand no water-bewitched, as the sayin' is.

As to cookin' that young woman know'd no more than a acrobat as tumbles in the streets, for if she didn't put the potatoes on as she was a

washin' up the breakfast things, and let 'em boil to starch, as I see with my own eyes.

But what put me out was her pretendin' to know everythin', and not likin' to be spoke to; not as I cared much about the cookin' through the week, for Brown was only home to his supper, as I looked to myself, but on the Sunday week follerin' Brown's aunt was a-comin' to dinner and Mr. and Mrs. Brodlins. So I'd got a nice piece of loin of weal and a Bath chap, with some Brussels sprouts and potatoes, with a bread-and-butter puddin' and a apple tart.

In course I didn't leave the pastry to her, as I don't hold with any one as does dirty work amakin' pies and puddin's for me, well knowin' as they'll have a hot, heavy hand, even if it should be a clean one, as isn't over likely. So I sends the tart to the baker's, and it's a mercy I did, for if that gal didn't go and put that bread-and-butter puddin' up in the oven and forget all about it, and when it come out it was for all the world like a roasted hare for colour, and then she ups and says to my face, "Well, you said as you liked it well browned."

I says to her, "Whatever you do soak that chap well, and don't let it boil hard;" but she must have let it gallop, for when it come to table no human knife couldn't make no way into it.

As to the weal it was raw, though I'd been poisoned all the mornin' with the smell of it aburnin', and coals in the drippin'-pan a-flarin', and me only able to call to her over the stairs, through not likin' to leave Brown's aunt, as had come that early as to take up all my time, and if that gal didn't say as she know'd her work, quite short.

As to the dinner, however I got through it I don't know, for if she hadn't been and cut away all the fat and kidney from the weal, and told me as she'd always seen it drawed, as she called it, me a-findin' out as she'd put it in her grease-pot unbeknown, as she kep' on the sly through me atellin' her as they was things as I won't have in my house.

It's a mercy as I had a bit of loin of mutton in the house, and went down and cooked chops myself, as was sent up hot and hot; and Brown was able to cut enough weal for his aunt, as kep' a-grumblin' all the time at losin' of the kidneys.

Well, that gal said as she wouldn't miss her chapel was it ever so, as she always kep' to of a Sunday evenin'; and I says, "Very well, Mary Ann, go and welcome; but," I says, "I think as you might find a place of worship nearer nor the Elephant and Castle." But I lets her go, as Mrs. Giddins was able for to come in to clear away the tea, and help me to mince up the weal for a bit of supper; for I don't hold as a mutton chop round is much for a Sunday's dinner.

Well, we got through the supper well, with a bit of toasted cheese to make up. Glad I was when they was gone, and Mrs. Giddins says, "It's gone ten, and would you want anything more?" says, "Ain't that young woman come in ?" No," says she. "Well," I says, "don't you wait," I says, "but them hours won't suit me.' We was got up to bed when I heard her ring. So Brown he says, "I'll let her in; don't say nothin' to-night." So he did, and come up a-sayin' as she'd

66

met her brother, and lost her way a-comin' home, and all as I says is "Rubbish!"

I was not a-sleepin' over well, for my heart misgive me about that young woman over-sleepin' herself, and knowin' as Mrs. Giddins would be six to the minute, as any one would be with a hard day's wash a-starin' them in the face, and I heard the clock at the distillery strike twelve when I was droppin' off, and of all the smells of burnin' I never did. So I jumps up and says, "Brown, we're abein 'burnt in our beds," as only replies "Bother!" through his snores, but I opens the door and hollars to him that loud as roused him sudden. I says, "Mark my words if it ain't that hussy," and rushes up to her room, as is the front attic, and a noble room too, and if the door wasn't locked though I'd took away the key with my own hands, through not a-holdin' with servants a-lockin' theirselves in.

Brown he was up by that time, and give the door one prise sudden with his foot and shoulder, and busted it in.

If that gal wasn't only just waked up, as had been a-readin' in bed with the candle on her bandbox, as was on a chair by the bedside, all a-smoulderin' away like, and bust in a flame when the door was opened, as Brown shoved into the grate, and if there'd been curtains to that bed we should all have perished, and if that hussy hadn't got sperrits in a bottle, leastways there was the bottle on the mantelshelf.

So I says, "You march, my lady, as soon as ever daylight comes." So I takes the lucifers away and locks her in the room, a-sayin' as I'd have in the police if she dared to speak, as she never said a word till I opens the door in the mornin' after I'd let in Mrs. Giddins, and if that creature wasn't dressed in her bonnet and shawl, and says, I'll leave your house, and am a-goin' for a cab." I says. "Leave my house you do; but," I says, cab, you walked here, and might walk

as to away."

Well, she bounced out of the place, and never come back till just on eleven, as the pot-boy was a-bringin' Mrs. Giddins her noonin's, as the sayin' is. She says, "I wants my wages and my property."

I says, "There's your week's money, as I'd scorn to keep." She says, "I'll have a month's."

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I says, “Will you? Do you see anything green about me ?" She says to the cabman, "Come in and help me down with my box. I says, You stop where you are, cabman-I'm not agoin' to have my passage and stair-carpets all mudded by you." I says, "You can carry the box down yourself for all that's in it." She says, "It was that heavy as she couldn't."

66

Well, then," I says, "I'll see what's in it." Of all the rages as she flew in and abuse was frightful; but as luck would have it a policeman were a-passin'. So I calls him in, as shet her up pretty quick, and the things as was in that box, all my property, beggars descriptions, as the sayin' is; but as I'd had quite enough of them courts, I wouldn't give her in charge though the policeman would have took her like a bird. She'd got bed linen and a bolster, to say nothin' of my stockin's,