DOMESTIC ARRANGEMENTS.
Lord George Germain was of a remarkably amiable disposition; and his domestics lived with him rather as humble friends than menial servants. One day entering his house in Pall-mall, he observed a large basket of vegetables standing in the hall, and inquired of the porter to whom they belonged, and from whence they came? Old John immediately replied, “They are ours, my lord, from our country-house.”—“Very well,” rejoined his lordship. At that instant a carriage stopped at the door, and lord George, turning round, asked what coach it was? “Ours,” said honest John. “And are the children in it ours too?” said his lordship, smiling. “Most certainly, my lord,” replied John, with the utmost gravity, and immediately ran to lift them out.
Riddle.
A LITERARY CHARACTER.
I have long maintained a distinguished station in our modern days, but I cannot trace my origin to ancient times, though the learned have attempted it. After the revolution in 1688, I was chief physician to the king; at least in my absence he ever complained of sickness. Had I lived in ancient days, so friendly was I to crowned heads, that Cleopatra would have got off with a sting; and her cold arm would have felt a reviving heat. I am rather a friend to sprightliness than to industry; I have often converted a neutral pronoun into a man of talent: I have often amused myself with reducing the provident ant to indigence; I never meet a post horse without giving him a blow; to some animals I am a friend, and many a puppy has yelped for aid when I have deserted him. I am a patron of architecture, and can turn every thing into brick and mortar; and so honest withal, that whenever I can find a pair of stockings, I ask for their owner. Not even Lancaster has carried education so far as I have: I adopt always the system of interrogatories. I have already taught my hat to ask questions of fact; and my poultry questions of chronology. With my trees I share the labours of my laundry; they scour my linen; and when I find a rent, ’tis I who make it entire.
In short, such are my merits, that whatever yours may be, you can never be more than half as good as I am.
ANSWER
TO THE PRECEDING.
A literary character you view,
Known to the moderns only—W:
I was physician to king William;
When absent, he would say, “how—ill I am!”
In ancient days if I had liv’d, the asp
Which poison’d Egypt’s queen, had been a—Wasp;
And the death-coldness of th’ imperial arm
With life reviving had again been—Warm.
A friend to sprightliness, that neuter it
By sudden pow’r I’ve chang’d into a—Wit.
The vainly-provident industrious ant
With cruel sport I oft reduce to—Want;
Whene’er I meet with an unlucky hack,
I give the creature a tremendous—Whack:
And many a time a puppy cries for help,
If I desert capriciously the—Whelp.
A friend to architecture, I turn all
(As quick as Chelt’nham builders) into—Wall.
I’m honest, for whene’er I find some hose,
I seek the owner, loud exclaiming—Whose?
Farther than Lancaster I educate,
My system’s always to interrogate;
Already have I taught my very hat
Questions of fact to ask, and cry out—What?
Questions of time my poultry, for the hen
Cackles chronology, enquiring—When?
My laundry’s labour I divide with ashes;
It is with them the laundress scours and—Washes:
And if an ugly rent I find, the hole
Instantly vanishes, becoming—Whole.