The following jeu d'esprit, written in 1793, was occasioned by the circumstance of Lord Howe returning from his pursuit of the French fleet, after an absence of six weeks, during which he had only seen the enemy, without having been able to overtake and bring them to action :—

When Cæsar triumphed o'er his Gallic foes,
Three words concise his gallant acts disclose;
But Howe, more brief, comprises his in one,
And vidi tells us all that he has done.

If brevity is the soul of wit, Talleyrand was the greatest of wits. A single word was often sufficient for his keenest retort. When a hypochondriac, who had notoriously led a profligate life, complained to the diplomatist that he was enduring the torments of hell,-"Je sens les tourmens de l'enfer,"—the answer was, "Déjà?" (Already?) To a lady who had lost her husband Talleyrand once addressed a letter of condolence in two words:"O, Madame!" In less than a year the lady had married again; and then his letter of congratulation was, "Ah, Madame !" Could any thing be more wittily significant than the "O" and the "Ah" of this sententious correspondence?

SAME JOKE DIVERSIFIED.

Prince Metternich once requested the autograph of Jules Janin. The witty journalist sent him the following:

"I acknowledge the receipt from M. de Metternich of twenty bottles of Johannisberg, for which I return infinite thanks. "JULES JANIN."

The prince, in return, doubled the quantity, and sent him forty bottles.

This is equal to the joke of Rochester on the occasion of Charles II.'s crew of rakes writing pieces of poetry and handing them to Dryden, so that he might decide which was the prettiest poet. Rochester finished his piece in a few minutes; and Dryden decided that it was the best. On reading it, the lines were found to be the following:

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"I promise to pay, to the order of John Dryden, twenty pounds.-ROCHESTER."

The following hyperbolical compliment paid to Louis XIV., after his numerous victories, is almost literally translated from the French of a Gascon author of those days, and, extraordinary as it may seem, is said to have obtained for the writer of it the premium alluded to in his gasconade :

To him whose muse in lofty strains
Shall blazon Louis' famed campaigns

And every great exploit,

Belongs the prize of twenty pounds:

What! only twenty! Blood and wounds!
For each 'tis scarce a doit.*

The Emperor Nicholas of Russia was thus "sold," a few years ago. During an interview which Martineff, the comedian and mimic, had succeeded in obtaining with the Prince, (Volkhonsky, high steward,) the emperor walked into the room unexpectedly, yet with a design, as was soon made evident. Telling the actor that he had heard of his talents and should like to see a specimen of them, he bade him mimic the old minister. This feat was performed with so much gusto that the emperor laughed immoderately, and then, to the great horror of the poor actor, desired to have himself "taken off." ""Tis physically impossible," pleaded Martineff. "Nonsense!" said Nicholas: "I insist on its being done." Finding himself on the horns of a dilemma, the mimic took heart of grace, and, with a promptitude and presence of mind that probably saved him, buttoned his coat over his breast, expanded his chest, threw up his head, and, assuming the imperial port to the best of his power, strode across the room and back; then, stopping opposite the minister, he cried, in the exact tone and manner of the Czar, "Volkhonsky! pay Monsieur Martineff one thousand silver roubles." The emperor for a moment was disconcerted; but, recovering himself with a faint smile, he ordered the money to be paid.

The following inscription on a medal of Louis XIV. illustrates the servile adulation of that period:

See in profile great Louis here designed!

Both eyes portrayed would strike the gazer blind.

OLD NICK.

When Nicholas Biddle was President of the United States Bank, there was an old negro hanger-on about the premises named Harry. One day, in a social mood, Biddle said to the darkey, "Well what is your name, my old friend?" "Harry, sir -ole Harry, sir," said the other, touching his shabby hat. "Old Harry!" said Biddle, "why that is the name that they give to the devil, is it not?" "Yes, sir," said the colored gentleman, "sometimes ole Harry and sometimes ole Nick.”

SYLLOGISM.

The famous sorites or syllogism of Themistocles was: That his infant son commanded the whole world, proved thus:My infant son rules his mother.

His mother rules me.

I rule the Athenians.

The Athenians rule the Greeks.

The Greeks rule Europe.

And Europe rules the world.

A FALSE FRIEND.

"You may say what you please," said Bill Muggins, speaking of a deceased comrade, "Jake was a good boy, he was, and a great hunter; but he was the meanest man that ever breathed in Old Kentuck; and he played one of the sharpest tricks you ever heard of, and I'll tell you how it was. I was out shootin' with him one mornin'. I tell you the duck was plenty; and other game we despised as long as we could see duck. Jake he was too mean to blaze away unless he could shoot two or three at a shot. He used to blow me up for wastin' shot and powder so, but I didn't care-I banged away. Well, somehow or other, while fussin' around the boat, my powder-flask fell overboard in about sixteen feet of water, which was as clear as good gin, and I could see the flask lay at the bottom. Jake was a good swimmer, and a good diver, and he said he'd fetch her up; so in a minit he was in. Well, I waited quite a considerable time for him to come up; then I looked over the side for him. Great Jerusalem! there sot old Jake on a pile of oyster-shells pourin' the powder out of my flask into his'n. Wasn't that mean?"

GASCONADE AND HOAXING.

A Gascon, in proof of his nobility, asserted that in his father's castle they used no other firewood than the batons of the different marshals of France of his family.

A Gascon officer, on hearing of the boastful exploits of a certain prince, who, among other things, had killed six men with his own hands in the course of an assault upon a city, said, disdainfully, "Poh, that's nothing: the mattress I sleep on is stuffed with nothing but the whiskers of those I have sent to the other world."

Vernon's skill in the invention of marvellous stories has never been surpassed, even by the peddlers of wooden nutmegs. Talking one day about the intense heat of the sun in India, he remarked that it was a common thing there for people to be charred to powder by a coup de soleil, and that upon one occasion, while dining with a Hindoo, one of his host's wives was suddenly reduced to ashes, whereupon the Hindoo rang the bell, and said to the attendant who answered it, " "Bring fresh glasses, and sweep up your mistress."

Another of his stories was this. He happened to be shooting hyenas near Carthage, when he stumbled, and fell down an abyss of many fathoms' depth. He was surprised, however, to find himself unhurt; for he lighted as if on a feather bed. Presently he perceived that he was gently moved upward; and, having by degrees reached the mouth of the abyss, he again stood safe on terra firma. He had fallen upon an immense mass of bats, which, disturbed from their slumbers, had risen out of the abyss and brought him up with them.

CHARLES MATHEWS AND THE SILVER SPOON.

Soon after Mathews went from York to the Haymarket Theatre, he was invited with other performers to dine with Mr. A—, afterwards an eminent silversmith, but who at that period followed the business of a pawnbroker. It so happened that A- was called out of the parlor, at the back of the shop, during dinner. Mathews, with wonderful celerity, alter

ing his hair, countenance, hat, &c., took a large gravy-spoon off the dinner-table, ran instantly into the street, entered one of the little dark doors leading to the pawnbroker's counter, and actually pledged to the unconscious A- his own gravyspoon. Mathews contrived with equal rapidity to return and seat himself (having left the street-door open) before Areappeared at the dinner-table. As a matter of course, this was made the subject of a wager. An éclaircissement took place before the party broke up, to the infinite astonishment of A

A ROYAL QUANDARY.

On the first consignment of Seidlitz Powders to the capital of Delhi, the monarch was deeply interested in the accounts of the refreshing beverage. A box was brought to the king in full court, and the interpreter explained to his majesty how it was to be used. Into a goblet he put the contents of the twelve blue papers; and, having added water, the king drank it off. This was the alkali, and the royal countenance exhibited no sign of satisfaction. It was then explained that in the combination of the two powders lay the luxury; and the twelve white powders were quickly dissolved in water, and as eagerly swallowed by his majesty. With a shriek that will never be forgotten, the monarch rose, staggered, exploded, and, in his agony, screamed, "Hold me down!" Then, rushing from the throne, he fell prostrate on the floor. There he lay during the long-continued effervescence of the compound, spirting like thousand pennyworths of imperial pop, and believing himself in the agonies of death, a melancholy and convincing proof that kings are mortal.

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RELICS.

"What is this?" said a traveller, who entertained reasonable doubts as to the genuineness of certain so-called relics of antiquity, while visiting an old cathedral in the Netherlands: "what is contained in this phial?"