1 See the anecdote, which the Duchess of Marlborough relates in her Memoirs, of this polite hero appropriating to himself one day, at dinner, a whole dish of green peas- the first of the season while the poor Princess Anne, who was then in a longing condition, sat by vainly entreating with her eyes for a share.

2 The same prudent propensity characterizes his descendant, who (as is well known) would not even go to the expense of a diphthong on his father's monument, but had the inscription spelled, economically, thus: -“mors janua

vita"

His death was brought on by a bad indigestion,

From cold apple-pie-crust his Lordship would stuff in

At breakfast to save the expense of hot muffin.

Hence it is, and hence only, that cold apple-pies

Are beheld by his Heir with such reverent eyes

Just as honest King Stephen his beaver might doff

To the fishes that carried his kind uncle off

And while filial piety urges so many on, 'Tis pure apple-pie-ety moves my Lord Kenyon.

NEW-FASHIONED ECHOES.

Sir,

Most of your readers are no doubt acquainted with the anecdote told of a certain not over-wise judge who, when in the act of delivering a charge in some country court-house, was interrupted by the braying of an ass at the door. "What noise

is that?" asked the angry judge. "Only an extraordinary echo there is in court, my Lord," answered one of the counsel.

As there are a number of such "extraordinary echoes" abroad just now, you will not, perhaps, be unwilling, Mr. Editor, to receive the following few lines suggested by them.

Yours, etc.

S.

Which his sire in sonnet terse
Wedded to immortal verse.1
Tho' to rob the son is sin,
Put his one idea in;
And, to keep it company,
Let that conjuror Winchelsea
Drop but half another there,
If he hath so much to spare.
Dreams of murders and of arsons,
Hatched in heads of Irish parsons,
Bring from every hole and corner,
Where ferocious priests like Horner
Purely for religious good

Cry aloud for Papist's blood,

Blood for Wells, and such old women, At their ease to wade and swim in. Dribble, dribble, nonsense

All. dribble,

Bexley, talk, and Kenyon, scribble.
3d Bruns. Now the charm begin to
brew;

Sisters, sisters, add thereto
Scraps of Lethbridge's old speeches,
Mixt with leather from his breeches.
Rinsings of old Bexley's brains,
Thickened (if you 'll take the pains)
With that pulp which rags create,
In their middle, nympha state,
Ere, like insects frail and sunny,
Forth they wing abroad as money.
There the Hell-broth we 've

en

nonsense

Bexley, talk, and Kenyon, scribble. 2d Bruns. Cool it now with

blood,

So the charm is firm and good. [exeunt.

HOW TO MAKE A GOOD POLITICIAN.

WHENE'ER you 're in doubt, said a Sage I once knew,

'Twixt two lines of conduct which course to pursue,

Ask a woman's advice, and, whate'er she advise,

Do the very reverse and you 're sure to be wise.

Of the same use as guides are the Brunswicker throng;

In their thoughts, words and deeds, so instinctively wrong,

That whatever they counsel act, talk or indite,

Take the opposite course and you 're sure to be right.

So golden this rule, that, had nature denied you

The use of that finger-post, Reason, to guide you—

Were you even more doltish than any given man is,

More soft than Newcastle, more twad

dling than Van is,

I'd stake my repute, on the following conditions,

To make you the soundest of sound politicians.

Place yourself near the skirts of some high-flying Tory

Some Brunswicker parson, of port-drinking glory,

Watch well how he dines, during any

Like the folks of a weather-house, shifting about,

When he's out be an In when he 's in be an Out.

Keep him always reversed in your thoughts, night and day,

Like an Irish barometer turned the wrong way:

If he 's up you may swear that oul weather is nigh;

If he 's down you may look for a bit of blue sky.

Never mind what debaters or journalists say,

Only ask what he thinks and then think t' other way.

Does he hate the Small-note Bill? then