A well-fed rector was advising a poor starving laborer to trust to Providence, and be satisfied with his lot. "Ah!" replied the needy man, "I should be satisfied with his lot if I had it, but I can't get even a little."
MCCCLXII.—TO LADY, MOUNT E——, ON THE DEATH OF A FAVORITE PIG.
O dry that tear so round and big,
Nor waste in sighs your precious wind;
Death only takes a single pig—
Your lord and son are still behind.
MCCCLXIII.—NATURAL.
Mrs. Smith, hearing strange sounds, inquired of her new servant if she snored in her sleep. "I don't know, marm," replied Becky, quite innocently; "I never lay awake long enough to diskiver."
MCCCLXIV.—BROTHERLY LOVE.
An affectionate Irishman once enlisted in the 75th Regiment, in order to be near his brother, who was a corporal in the 76th.
MCCCLXV.—A DISTRESSFUL DENOUEMENT.
Mr. Moore having been long under a prosecution in Doctors' Commons, his proctor called on him one day whilst he was composing the tragedy of The Gamester. The proctor having sat down, he read him four acts of the piece, being all he had written; by which the man of law was so affected, that he exclaimed, "Good! good! can you add to this couple's distress in the last act?"—"O, very easily," said the poet, "I intend to put them into the Ecclesiastical Court."