.

Lord Ellenborough had infinite wit.

When the

income-tax was imposed, he said that Lord Kenyon (who was not very nice in his habits) intended, in consequence of it, to lay down-his pocket-handkerchief.

A lawyer one day pleading before him, and using several times the expression "my unfortunate client," Lord Ellenborough suddenly interrupted him,— "There, sir, the court is with you."

Lord Ellenborough was once about to go on the circuit, when Lady E. said that she should like to accompany him. He replied that he had no objections, provided she did not encumber the carriage with bandboxes, which were his utter abhorrence. They set off. During the first day's journey Lord Ellenborough, happening to stretch his legs, struck his feet against something below the seat. He discovered that it was a bandbox. His indignation is not to be described. Up went the window, and out went the bandbox. The coachman stopped; and the footmen, thinking that the bandbox had tumbled out of the window by some extraordinary chance, were going to pick it up, when Lord Ellenborough furiously called out, "Drive on!" The bandbox accordingly was left by a ditch-side. Having reached

the county-town where he was to officiate as judge, Lord Ellenborough proceeded to array himself for his appearance in the court-house. "Now," said he, "where's my wig-where is my wig?" "My lord,” replied his attendant, "it was thrown out of the carriage-window."*

In very nearly the above words, I have heard Mr. Rogers relate (at least a dozen times) the story of Lord E.'s wig. But according to a writer in The Examiner for Feb. 23d., 1856, "The true story is, that the lady's maid, spying Lord Ellenborough's wig-box among the luggage in the hall, bethought herself what a shame it was that his lordship's fogey wig should be so substantially and securely lodged, while her mistress's beautiful cap was entrusted to a fragile bandbox. Whereupon, to redress this wrong, she took the wig out of its box, substituted Lady Ellenborough's cap, and clapped the wig in the band box. Passing over Westminster Bridge, Lord Ellenborough discovered the band. box, and in spite of the prayers of Lady Ellenborough, ordered the footman to pitch it into the river. He is now at the assize town; the court is filled, and waiting for the presiding judge; the Chief-Justice robed, asks for his wig; the attendant opens the wig-box, and, lo! instead of the wig, there is perched coquettishly in its place a lace-cap with smart pink ribbons, appearing pertly to challenge the Chief-Justice,-'Try me!' The truth flashes on Lord Ellenborough; he had cast his wig on the waters."-As to which of these may be "the true story," I suspect that the quantum of truth in either is nearly equal, both of them being, apparently, pleasant exaggerations.-ED.

The English highwaymen of former days (indeed, the race is now extinct) were remarkably well-bred personages. Thomas Grenville,* while travelling with Lord Derby; and Lord Tankerville, while travelling with his father; were attacked by highwaymen: on both occasions six or seven shots were exchanged between them and the highwaymen; and when the parties assailed had expended all their ammunition, the highwaymen came up to them, and took their purses in the politest manner possible.

Foreigners have more romance in their natures than we English. Fuseli, during his later years, used to be a very frequent visitor of Lady Guilford, at Putney Hill. In the grounds belonging to her villa there was a statue of Flora holding a wreath of flowers, Fuseli would frequently place in the wreath a slip of paper, containing some pretty sentiment, or some expressions of kindness, intended for Lady Guilford's daughters; who would take it away, and replace it by another of the same kind

The Right Honourable T. G.-ED.

When one of these ladies told me this, the tears were

The three great curses of Ireland are, Absenteeism, Middle-men, and the Protestant Establishment.

A man who attempts to read all the new publications must often do as a flea does-skip.

Such is the eagerness of the human mind for excitement,-for an event,-that people generally have a sort of satisfaction in reading the deaths of their friends in the newspapers. I don't mean that a man would not be shocked to read there the death of his child or of his dearest friend; but that he feels a kind of pleasure in reading that of an acquaintance, because it gives him something to talk about with every body on whom he may have to call during the day.

You remember the passage in King Lear,-a pas

sage which Mrs. Siddons said that she never could

read without shedding tears,—

"Do not laugh at me;

For, as I am a man, I think this lady

To be my child Cordelia."*

Something of the same kind happened in my own family. A gentleman, a near relation of mine, was on his death-bed, and his intellect much impaired, when his daughter, whom he had not seen for a considerable time, entered the room. He looked at her with the greatest earnestness, and then exclaimed, "I think I should know this lady:" but his recognition went no further.

One morning I had a visit from Lancaster, whom I had never before seen. The moment he entered the room, he began to inform me of his distresses, and burst into tears. He was unable, he said, to carry on his school for want of money, he owed some hundred pounds to his landlord, he had been to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who would do nothing for him, &c., &c.; and he requested me to

* Act iv. sc. 7.-ED.