affronte, and I disgrace me to parley vid you. I tell you, sare, dat I vant deux fly on de top of de vater, to dingle dangle at de end of de long pole, to la trap poisson.

"What's that you say, you French Mounseer-you'll lay a trap to poison me and all my family, because I won't assist you to escape? Why, the like was never heard. Here, Betty, go for the constable."

The constable soon arrived, who happened to be as ignorant as the shopkeeper, and of course it was not expected that a constable should be a scholar. Thus the man of office began:"What's all this?

Betty has been telling me that this here outlandish Frenchman is going to poison you and all your family? Aye, aye, I should like to catch him at it, that's all. Come, come to prison, you delinquent."

"No, sare, I sall not go to de prison, take me before de - what you call it de ting that nibble de grass?"

'Oh, you mean the cow."

“No, sare, not de cow; you stup Johnny boeuf-I mean de sheval, vat you ride [Imitating.] Come, sare, gee up. Ah, ha." "Oh, now I know, you mean a horse."

"No, sare, I mean de horse's vife.

"What, the mare?"

“Oui, bon, yes sare, take me to de mayor."

This request was complied with, and the French officer stood before the English magistrate, who by chance happened to be better informed than his neighbors, and thus explained, to the satisfaction of all parties.

"You have mistaken the intention of this honest gentleman; he did not want to fly the country, but to go a fishing, and for that purpose went to your shop to purchase two flies, by way of bait, or as he expressed it, to la trap la poisson. Poisson, in French, is fish."

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'Why, aye," replied the shopkeeper, "that may be true — you are a scholard, and so you know better than I. Poison, in French, may be very good fish, but give me good old English roast beef.”

ANON.

THE LADIES' PETITION TO DR. MOYES.

DEAR Doctor! let it not transpire,
How much your lectures we admire;
How at your eloquence we wonder,
When you explain the cause of thunder,
Of lightning, and of electricity,
With so much plainness and simplicity:
The origin of rocks and mountains,
Of seas and rivers, lakes and fountains;
Of rain and hail, and frost and snow,
And all the winds and storms that blow.
Besides a hundred wonders more,

Of which we never heard before.

But now, dear Doctor! not to flatter,
There is a most important matter

A matter which our thoughts run much on.

A subject, if we right conjecture,

Which well deserves a long, long lecture,

Which all the ladies would approve―

The natural history of Love.

O list to our united voice,

Deny us not, dear Doctor Moyes!

Tell us, why our poor tender hearts
So willingly admit Love's darts:
Teach us the marks of Love's beginning;
What is it makes a beau so winning;
What makes us think a coxcomb witty,
A dotard wise, a red coat pretty;
Why we believe such horrid lies-
That we are angels from the skies;
Our teeth are pearl, our cheeks are roses;
Our eyes are stars; such charming noses!
Explain our dreams, waking and sleeping;

Explain our laughing and our weeping;
Explain our hoping and our doubting,
Our blushing, simpering, and pouting;
Teach us all the enchanting arts
Of winning, and of keeping hearts:
Teach us, dear Doctor, if you can,
To humble that proud creature, Man;
To turn the wise ones into fools,
The proud and insolent to tools;
To make them all run helter-skelter,
Their necks into the marriage-halter.
Then leave us to ourselves with thesc,
We'll rule and turn them as we please.
Dear Doctor! if you grant our wishes,
We promise you five hundred kisses;
And, rather than the affair be blunder'd,
We'll give you six score to the hundred.

ANON.

THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE.

A WELL there is in the west country,
And a clearer one never was seen;
There is not a wife in the west country,
But has heard of the well of St. Keyne,

An oak and an elm tree stand beside,
And behind does an ash tree grow!
And a willow from the bank above,
Droops to the water below.

A traveller came to the well of St. Keyne,
Joyfully he drew nigh;

For from cock-crow he had been travelling,

And there was not a cloud in the sky.

He drank of the water so cool and clear,
For hot and thirsty was he;

And he sat down upon the bank,

Under the willow tree.

There came a man from the neighboring town,

At the well to fill his pail;

On the well side he rested it,

And he bade the stranger hail.

"Now art thou a bachelor, stranger?” quoth he. "For an if thou hast a wife,

T'he happiest draught thou hast drunk this day,
That ever thou didst in thy life.

"Or has thy good woman, if one thou hast,
Ever here in Cornwall been?

For an if she have, I'll venture my life,

She has drank of the well of St. Keyne."

"I have left a good woman who never was here," The stranger he made reply;

"But that my draught should be better for that, pray you answer me why."

"St. Keyne," quoth the Cornishman, "many a time Drank of this crystal well;

And before the angel summon'd her,
She laid on the water a spell:-

"If the husband, of this gifted well,
Shall drink before his wife,

A happy man henceforth is he,

For he shall be master for life.

"But if the wife should drink of it first,
God help the husband then!"

The stranger stoop'd to the well of St. Keyne,
And drank of the water again.

"You drank of the well, I warrant, betimes,"

He to the Cornishman said;

But the Cornishman smiled as the stranger spake,
And sheepishly shook his head.

"I hasten'd as soon as the wedding was done,
And left my wife in the porch:

But i'faith, she had been wiser than I,

For she took a bottle to church."

SOUTHEY.

A CHAPTER ON LOGIC.

AN Eton stripling, training for the law,
A dunce at Syntax-but a dab at taw,
One happy Christmas laid upon the shelf
His cap and gown, and store of learned pelf;
With all the deathless bards of Greece and Rome,

To spend a fortnight at his uncle's home.

Arrived, and pass'd the usual How d'ye do's,

Inquiries of old friends, and college news

"Well, Tom, the road- What saw you worth discerning! And how goes study? - What is it you're learning?

"Oh, Logic, sir, but not the common rules

Of Locke and Bacon — antiquated fools!

'Tis wit and wrangler's logic! -Thus, d'ye see,

I'll prove at once, as plain as a, b, c,

That an eel pie's a pigeon!—To deny it

Would be to swear black's white."

"Come, let's try it."

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"An eel-pie is a pie of fish." Agreed."

"A fish-pie may be a jack-pie.” — “Well, proceed.” "A jack-pie must be a John-pie—thus it's done,

For every John-pie must be a pi-geon!"

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