Holcomb. "Very well, I know him; I see him sometimes at the sessions and meetings. Now for whom is this letter?"—" That, Sir," said I," the direction will show; I presumed it was for you." "Yes, I find," cried he," you are a very presuming fellow." At this Mrs. Jones and the young ladies laughed heartily, conceiving it to be wit. After several renewed bursts of Ha! ha! a! they composed their features into their usual state of solemn ugliness, and Mr. Jones proceeded thus:-" Now Sir, this letter is not for me, and coupling this circumstance with the odd and suspicious way in which you have stolen into my house, I am fully warranted to take you for a thief, till you prove yourself not to be' one."

This ill language, so ill suited to raise respect, roused me in all the feelings with which the sense of honour inspire a gentleman, I was no longer abashed; but frowning in my turn, said, "I was sorry to find any portion of the administration of justice confided in one capable of so illiberal and immoral a sentiment, that the maxim of reason and religion was to believe men innocent till they were proved to be guilty; nay, though he seemed not to know it, it was the maxim of the law." Mr. Jones surveyed me with mixed indignation and surprise, and, without 'saying another word opened the door of an inner room and went in. As he left the door open, I heard him, though not distinctly, talking with another person; but the words, he is some attorney's clerk, caught my ear; and a minute after, a man

coming to the door desired me to walk that way, I went forward with a firm step, and shut the door after me, but it was soon gently opened on the other side, and left a little a-jar.

"You talk mighty fine, young man,” said Mr. Jones, who was sitting at a desk-table, "but notwithstanding what you said there about reason and religion, it is a very different thing as to law, and you may find it so to your cost; howsomever, I have consulted Mr. Jonathan here, and I find that though you may be a thief. Now this letter is directed to a gentleman who lives on the other side of Exeter, as I suppose, for there may be a hundred John Joneses; but, in the spirit of the laws of this land to give you a fair chance of escaping, I shall send it over to him along with you; and if you really be what you say, this letter is written by the vicar of Holcomb, you may go about your business; if not, you will be taken to the house of correction. Mr. Jonathan, here is the letter, you will drive him over to Affington, in your gig, and I shall order Thomas to ride behind you for greater safety; see Mr. John Jones yourself, and deliver the letter into his own hands."

This was a most unexpected adventure. At first I was not much inclined to submit to the coercive measure proposed by this magistrate, but recollecting the determination I had repeatedly made, to preserve an even mind in the trials to which my singular fate had doomed me, I was silent, certain of being protected by the Jones of Affington, and happy to be quit of the Jones of Pinhoe.

Y

BON MOTS, PUNS, ODDITIES, &c. &c.

Collected from various sources.-The following are most from the daily newspapers for 1806.

TO A FRIEND.

Or two illustrious Statesmen dead,

You ask, dear Friend what may

Of either's memory?

For once, I answer you in rhyme,

be said

That Fox may be compar'd to TIME,-
PITT, to ETERNITY.

Item in a Bookseller's catalogue:-A parcel of loose papers bound in one volume.

From BONAPARTE'S enmity to the Press it is supposed that he is a friend to Locke on the Human Understanding.

OBJECTS OF PITY.

SIR JOHN SUCKLING used to say

I pity the Poet who is obliged to write for bread. I pity the man who has fallen into the hands of a petty-fogging Attorney.

I pity the man who is married to a scold, unless he is deaf.

I pity the woman who is married to a rakish spouse,

unless she is blind.

I pity the man that cannot read of a wet day.

I pity the man that is in debt, and would pay if he could.

I pity the man that can only boast of a long pedigree.

The figures that strike the hour at St. Dunstan's church, in Fleet-street, are, it seems, displeased with being called Time-servers. They say, they obey the dictates of their Constituents-are always on their post, day and night, in sun-shine and in rain, and that they were never known to shrink from their duty.

AN IRISH GRACE.--An Irish self-taught Poet, being asked to say grace over a small piece of beef, and a few potatoes, rather of the dwarfish size, pronounced it thus extempore:

O! Thou that bless'd the loaves and fishes,
Look down upon these two poor

dishes:

And though the tatoes are but small,
Oh make them large enough for all;
For if they do our bellies fill,

"Twill be a kind of miracle.

The second son of the Duke of WIRTEMBERG, at the court of Berlin, is content with the title of Baron Peck, notwithstanding he has a bushel of titles.

A new publication is advertised, called "The Lamp:" a very proper title for a new book, as the Reviewers will, doubtles, shew no delay in trimming it.

EPITAPHS EXTRAORDINARY.

The following Epitaphs are from a Collection lately published, in 2 vols. for which see the Criticisms.

BUTLER, the celebrated anthor of Hudibras, was buried in this church. Some of the inhabitants understanding that so famous a man was there buried, and regretting that neither stone nor inscription recorded the event, raised a subscription for the purpose of erecting something to his memory, accordingly an elegant tablet has been put up in the Portico of the church, bearing a medallion of that great man, which was taken from his monument in Westminster Abbey.

The following lines were contributed by Mr. O'Brien, and are engraved beneath the medallion.

A FEW plain men, to pomp, and pride unknown, O'er a pocr bard have rais'd this humble stone, Whose wants alone his genius could surpass, Victim of zeal! the matchless HUDIBRAS.