of the room first; upon which the grocer's lady, pulling her back by the skirt of her gown, and stepping before her, "No, madam," says she, "nothing comes after cheese." "I beg your pardon, madam," replies the cheese-monger's wife, pulling the tobacconist's lady back, who was also stepping before her, "after cheese comes tobacco."

Soldier and the Indian.

A soldier in the American army, belonging to Weston, N. Y. about the time Gen. Brock was killed in battle, was on a scouting party one day. Being a man of courage, enterprise, and sagacity, he was determined, if possible, to obtain an accurate knowledge of the position of the enemy. For this purpose he ventured to separate from his companions. In the course of his reconnoitring alone, in the open field, he approached a wood, the underbrush of which was very thick. His watchful eye discovered what he supposed to be some animal among the bushes. He immediately saw his mistake-it was an Indian crawling on his hands and feet, with his riffe in his hand, and watching the soldier, evidently with the intention of advancing sufficiently near to make him a sure mark. For the soldier to retreat was now impossible; he thought he could not escape, and he remembered too, that his father had told him never to return with a backside wound. He pretended not to see the Indian, and walked slowly towards him, with his gun cocked by his side, carefully observing all his movements. They approached nearer and nearer; at length he saw the Indian bringing the gun to his shoulder-at that instant the soldier fell to the ground-the ball whistled its deadly music over his head. The soldier lay mo

tionless. The Indian uttered the dreadful yell which signifies the death of an enemy, and, drawing the bloody scalping-knife (but forgetting to reload his piece), advanced with basty strides, thirsting for murder, and anticipating the reward for the scalp. The soldier, motionless, permitted him to approach within ten paces, he then with the utmost composure sprung upon his feet. The savage stood aghast ! The soldier, with deliberate aim, put two balls directly through his heart. A hoarse groan was the only sound that issued from the fallen savage. This son of the forest was at least six feet five inches in height. The soldier took the Indian's rifle, returned to the camp, and sold it for twenty-five dollars.

Lord Richardson and the Curman.

Lord Richardson, riding abroad in his coach to take the air, and passing by a carman whose horses were of unequal fatness, called out, "Sirrah, sirrah, resolve me one question: why is your foremost horse so lusty and pampered, and the rest such lean jades?" The carman, not knowing the judge, but deeming him a lawyer, from his habit, answered, Whoy, the reason is plain enough; my fore horse is the counsellor, and all the rest his clients."

Cure for Love.

When Mrs. Rogers, the actress, was young and handsome, Lord North and Grey used to dangle after her; and one night being behind the scenes, standing with his arms folded, in the posture of a desponding lover, he asked her, with a sigh, "What is a cure for love?" "Your lordship," said she, "the best in the world."

My own Steward.

"I cannot conceive," said one English nobleman to another, "how it is that you manage. I am convinced you are not of a temper to spend more than your income; and yet, though your estate is less than mine, I could not afford to live at the rate that you do." My Lord," said the other, "I have a place." "A place! you amaze me. I never heard of it till now. Pray, what place?" "I am my own steward."

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Indian Reply.

A chief of the Creek Indians, having been ap pointed to negotiate a treaty of peace with the citizens of South Carolina, and having met the proper authorities for that purpose, was desired by the governor to speak his mind freely and without reserve; for, as he was among his friends, he need not be "afraid." "I will," said he, "speak freely; I will not be afraid. Why should I be afraid among my friends, who am never afraid among my enemies?"

A Pot I Carry.

A fat apothecary, having got drunk at a tavern in Fleet Street, was sent home by his companions in a porter's basket. When the man

came to

Temple Bar, he was asked by the keeper within what was his business. "A thing of great weight," was the answer. After being admitted, he was asked what was in his basket. "A pot I carry," replied the porter.

Grosvenor House.

When Grosvenor House, Millbank, was the extreme house on one of the ways leading out of London, somebody asked another, in passing, "Who lived in it?" "Lord Grosvenor," was the reply. “I do not know what estate his lordship has," said the querist; "but he ought to have a good one; for nobody lives beyond him in the whole town."

Trofessional Obliquity of Understanding. A gentleman, passing a woman who was skinning eels, and observing the torture of the poor animals, asked her, how she could have the heart to put them to such pain. "Lord, sir," she replied, "they be used to it."

A fishmonger of famous London town was telling a neighbour that he intended to take a trip to Margate, where he should spend some time. "And will you bathe ?" inquired the other. "O, Lord, no!" answered the worthy citizen; "the fishes would know me." Let Ireland match this, if it can.

Wit in the Gallery.

Soon after the accession of George III., an additional tax was laid on beer, to the great discontent of the populace. His majesty was one night attending the theatre, when a fellow in the upper gallery called to another to come and drink with him, as he had got a full pot. "What did you give for your full pot?" inquired the invited person. "Three. pence-halfpenny." "Threepence-halfpenny! Why

where did you send for it?" "To George the Third." "You fool," said the other, "why did you not send to George the Second? you would have had it there for threepence."

Female Intrepidity.

When the war of extermination between the Indians and Kentuckians was at its height, those who inhabited the back parts of the state of Kentucky. were obliged to have their houses built very strong, with loop-holes all around, and doors always fastened, so as to repel any attack from the Indians. While the owner of one of these domestic fortresses was with his slaves, at work on the plantation, a negro, who was posted near the house, saw approaching a party of Indians. He immediately ran to the house, and the foremost Indian after him. The Indian was the fleetest, and as the door opened to admit the negro, they both jumped in together. The other Indians being some distance behind, the door was instantly closed by the planter's wife within, when the Indian and negro grappled. Long and hard was the struggle, for as in the case of Fitz James and Roderick Dhu, the one was the strongest and the other more expert, but strength this time was the victor, for they fell, the Indian below; when the negro, placing his knees on his breast, and holding his hands, kept him in that position, until the woman, seizing a broad ax, and taking the Indian by his long hair, at one blow severed his head from his body. The negro, then seizing the guns, fired them at the other Indians, which, as fast as discharged, were loaded again by the planter's wife, until the party from the field, hearing the firing, arrived, and the Indians took to flight.

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