DOCTOR GLYNN'S RECEIPT FOR DRESSING A CUCUMBER. Dr. Glynn, whose name will long be remembered in Cambridge, was one of those beings who would occasionally unstring the bow, lest it should lose its elasticity. Being one day in attendance on a lady in the quality of her physician, he took the liberty of lecturing her on the impropriety of her eating cucumber, of which she was immoderately fond; and gave her the following humorous receipt for dressing them:-"Peel the cucumber," said the doctor, "with great care; then cut it into very thin slices, pepper and salt it well, and thenthrow it away!" EXTEMPORANEOUS VERSES. The following extemporaneous effusion was poured forth by a gentleman of Benét, or Corpus Christi College, Cambridge: Have you not heard the cock's loud crowing Ere the day began to dawn? Have you not heard the cattle lowing, And the huntsman's sounding horn? Have you not heard the church bells ringing, Have you not heard the tempest roar, If you have heard all these, and more, PORSON'S POLITICS. They never interrupted an harmonious intercourse with him, who pays this tribute to his memory, and to whom, in a moment of confidence, he gave, in his own hand-writing, a pamphlet, written in answer to Mr. Burke's Reflections on the French Revolution. It is termed "A New Catechism for the Natives of Hampshire." The humour of the tract consists in playing upon the expression, “swinish multitude," said to have been applied to the common people by Mr. Burke. The following is the beginning and ending of the TRACT. Question. What is your name? Answer. Hog or Swine. Q. Did God make you a hog? A. No; God made me man in his own image: the right honourable Sublime and Beautiful made me a swine. Q. How did he make you a swine? A. By muttering obscure and uncouth spells. He is a dealer in the black art. Q. Who feeds you? A. Our drivers, the only real men in this country. Q. How many hogs are you in all? A. Seven or eight millions. Q. How many drivers? A. Two or three thousand. Q. With what do they feed you? A. Generally with husks, swill, draff, malt, grains, and now and then with a little barley-meal and a few potatoes; and, when they have too much butter-milk themselves, they give us some. The following must be allowed not to be destitute of humour: Q. What are the interpreters* called? A. The black-letter sisterhood. Q. Why do they give the office to women? A. Because they have a fluent tongue and a knack of scolding. Q. How are they dressed? A. In gowns and false hair. Q. What are the principal orders? A. Three writers, talkers, and hearers; which last are also called deciders. Q. What is their general business? A. To discuss the mutual quarrels of the hogs, and to punish their affronts to any or all of their drivers. Q. If two hogs quarrel, how do they apply to the sisterhood? A. Each hog goes separately to a writer. Q. What does the writer? A. She goes to a tulker. Q. What does the talker? A. She goes to a hearer, or decider. Q. What does the hearer decide? A. What she pleases. Q. If a hog be decided to be in the right, what is the consequence? A He is almost ruined. Q. If in the wrong, what? A. He is quite ruined. After some facetious remarks on the clergy, who are termed peace-makers, the dialogue proceeds: * Judges. Q. How are these peace-makers rewarded? A. With potatoes. Q. What, all? A. Ten per cent. only. Q. Then you have still ninety left in the hundred? Q. What becomes of the odd fifty? A. The drivers take them, partly for a small recompense for protecting us, and partly to make money of them, for the prosecution of law-suits with the neighbouring farmers. Q. You talk sensibly for a hog; where had you your information? A. From a very learned pig. The following is given by way of answer to the question-by what ceremony the hog is disenchanted, and resumes his natural shape: 4. The hog is going to be disenchanted, grovels before the chief driver, who holds an iron skewer over him, and gives him a smart blow on the shoulder, to remind him at once of his former subjection and future submission. Immediately he starts up, like the devil from Ithuriel's spear, in his proper shape, and ever after goes about with a nickname. He then beats his hogs without mercy, and, when they implore his compassion, and beg him to recollect he was once their fellow-swine, he denies that ever he was a hog. This curious dialogue thus concludes: Q. What is the general wish of the hogs at present? A. To save their bacon. Chorus of Hogs. STEALING. A Johnian, now deceased, one day met a Trinity man, walking under the piazza of Neville's Court, of whom he had some knowledge. Going suddenly up to the Trinitarian, he addressed him with,-"Sir, you are a thief!" The Trinitarian, all astonishment at the tone in which the accusation was made, demanded an explanation. "Sir," answered the Johnian, smiling, " You steal from the sun. THE CANONICAL WIG. It so happened one day, that Doctor Howard passed by the shop of a peruke-maker, when his pocket, which was too often the case, overflowed with emptiness. He saw a canonical wig in the window, which took his fancy very much, and, in order to obtain credit, he informed the master of the shop he was rector of St. George's Southwark, and chaplain to the Princess Dowager of Wales. Happy in the acquisition of such a customer, the hair-dresser, who had received the doctor's order to that effect, finished a wig with the utmost despatch; but before he sent it home, he heard some whispers about the reverend doctor, which did not perfectly please him, and he therefore ordered his journeyman, whom he sent with the wig, not to deliver it without the money. “I have brought your wig, sir," said the barber, when ushered into the doctor's presence. "Very well," said his reverence, "put it down." "I can't, sir," replied the barber, "without the cash." The doctor, who was just then very low in the pocket, and anxious to possess the wig, said "Let me try whether it will fit me?" |