A clownish Yorkshire farmer-one Who kept their laughter bottled down And went to work... "Well, Farmer Numscull, how go calves at York?” 66 'Why-not, Sir, as they do wi' you, But on four legs instead of two." "Officer !" cried the legal elf, 66 "Our rustic's waggish quite laconic," On circuit was at York residing.- In the West Riding?" “ Why no, Sir, no; we've got our share, But not so many as when you were there." The Collegian and the Porter. AT Trin. Coll. Cam.-which means, in proper spelling, The odds at any race or match; Could kick up rows-knock down the watch- Remonstrance, fine, and rustication, Seem'd but to make his lapses greater, One need not be a necromancer Home as the midnight chimes were tolling, The second peal was vain-the third Made the street echo its alarum; When to his great delight he heard The sordid Janitor, old Ben, Rousing and growling in his den. "Who's there?-I s'pose young Harum-scarum." ""Tis I, my worthy Ben-'tis Harry." "Ay, so I thought and there you'll tarry. "'Tis past the hour-the gates are closed, "I'm wet," cried Harry, "to the skin ; Humph!" growl'd the greedy old curmudgeon, Half overjoy'd and half in dudgeon, "Now you may pass; but make no fuss, On tiptoe walk, and hold your prate." "Look on the stones, old Cerberus," Cried Harry as he pass'd the gate, "I've dropp'd a shilling-take the light, You'll find it just outside---good night." Behold the porter in his shirt, Cursing the rain which never stopp'd, Groping and raking in the dirt, And all without success; but that Is hardly to be wonder'd at, Because no shilling had been dropp'd; So he gave o'er the search at last, With sundry oaths, and growls, and groans, He rang once-twice and thrice; and then, "Who's there?-'Tis really a disgrace "Psha! Mr. Dashington: remember, This is the middle of November, I'm stripp'd ;---'tis raining cats and dogs.” "Hush, hush!" quoth Hal; "I'm fast asleep ;" And then he snored as loud and deep As a whole company of hogs: But, harkye, Ben, I'll grant admittance "Nay, master, leave me half the pittance," "No: all, or none-a full acquittance: The terms, I know, are somewhat high; you have fix'd the price, not I— But I won't take less ;-I can't afford it." Drew out the guinea, and restored it. Surely you 'il give me,” growl'd th' outwitted Porter, when again admitted, Something, now you've done your joking, For all this trouble, time, and soaking." "Oh, surely-surely," Harry said; "Since, as you urge, I broke your rest, And you're half drown'd, and quite undress'd, leave to go to bed." I'll give you ROUSSEAU'S HERMITAGE. -O qui me gelidis in vallibus Hæmi Sistat, et ingenti ramorum protegat umbrâ! O WHAT picturesque, what romantic associations did I connect with this spot! A hermitage in the midst of woods is abstractedly scenic and piquant to the fancy; but when I recollected the glowing and pastoral beauties with which this morbid enthusiast had invested it in his Confessions-when I called to mind that he had here composed some of his most touching effusions, and had attributed their fervour to the inspiration of these sylvan and sequestered haunts, my imagination was disposed to run riot in the luxuriance of its rural shadowings. I had determined, however, that the Hermitage itself was a kind of Swiss cottage, somewhat like those in the gardens of the little Trianon, the trellis-work of whose latticed windows was nearly hidden by clusters of roses, jessamin, and honeysuckle; while acacias, mountain-ash, laburnum, and other flowering trees, gracefully threw their varicoloured foliage over the roof, contrasting finely with the gigantic boughs and impenetrable shade of the forest in which the whole was embowered. Alas! this inauspicious day was but a tissue of disappointments. After toiling up the hill of Montmorency, I looked around me, and if its valley be in reality what it is generally stated to be,-one of the most picturesque and romantic spots in France,-I can only say, So much the worse for France. I agree with the |