THE GATHERER.
"I am but a Gatherer and disposer of other men's stuff."—Wotton
NEGRO PUN.
At the late fancy ball in Liverpool, a gentleman who had assumed the swarthy hue of a "nigger," was requested to favour the company with Matthews's song—"Possum up a gum tree."—"Non possum," replied the wit.
"SPIRITS" OF THE MAGAZINES.
Is it not diverting to see a periodical supported, not by the spirits of the age, but by the small beers, with now and then a few ales and porters? Yet we doubt not that one and all of the people employed about the concern may be, in their way, very respectable schoolmasters, who, in small villages, cannot support themselves entirely on their own bottoms,—ushers in metropolitan academies, whose annual salary rarely exceeds twenty pounds, with some board, and a little washing—third-rate actors on the boards of the Surrey or Adelphi, who have generally a literary turn—a player on the hautboy in some orchestra or other—unfortunate men of talent in the King's Bench—a precocious boy or two in Christ's hospital—an occasional apprentice run away from the row, and most probably cousin of Tims.