THE “ILL WIND,” &c.

  In debt, deserted, and forlorn,
    A melancholy elf
  Resolved, upon a Monday morn,
    To go and hang himself. 
  He reach’d the tree, when lo! he views
    A pot of gold conceal’d;
  He snatch’d it up, threw down the noose,
    And scamper’d from the field. 
  The owner came—­found out the theft,
    And, having scratch’d his head,
  Took up the rope the other left,
    And hung himself, instead.

* * * * *

OLD COOKERY.

Gastronomers will feel a natural desire to know what was considered the “best universal sauce in the world,” in the boon days of Charles II., at least what was accounted such, by the Duke of York, who was instructed to prepare it by the Spanish ambassador.  It consisted of parsley, and a dry toast pounded in a mortar, with vinegar, salt, and pepper.  The modern English would no more relish his royal highness’s taste in condiments than in religion.  A fashionable or cabinet dinner of the same period consisted of “a dish of marrow-bones, a leg of mutton, a dish of fowl, three pullets, and a dozen larks, all in a dish; a great tart, a neat’s tongue, a dish of anchovies, a dish of prawns, and cheese.”  At the same period, a supper-dish, when the king supped with his mistress, Lady Castlemaine, was “a chine of beef roasted.”

* * * * *

OLD EPITAPH.

  As I was, so are ye,
  As I am, you shall be. 
  That I had, that I gave,
  That I gave, that I have. 
  Thus I end all my cost,
  That I left, that I lost.

* * * * *

IMPROMPTU TO ——­, ON HER MARRIAGE WITH MR. WILLIAM P——.

    When ladies they wed,
    It ever is said
  That their freedom away they have thrown;
    But you’ve not done so,
    For we very well know
  You will have a Will of your own.

C.K.W.

* * * * *

PAINTERS.

Lavater affirms, that no one whose person is not well formed can become a good physiognomist.  Those painters were the best whose persons were the handsomest.  Reubens, Vandyke, and Raphael possessed three gradations of beauty, and possessed three gradations of painting.

* * * * *

ELYSIAN SOUP.

The French have a soup which they call “Potage a la Camerani” of which it is said “a single spoonful will lap the palate in Elysium; and while one drop remains on the tongue, each other sense is eclipsed by the voluptuous thrilling of the lingual nerves!”

* * * * *

A JAPANESE BEAUTY.