I must laugh when I see
    A poor insect like thee
  Dare to pity the fate thou must own;
    Let a few moments slide,
    We shall lie side by side,
  And crumble to dust, bone for bone.

Go, weep thine own doom,
Thou wert born for the tomb—­
Thou hast lived, like myself, but to die;
Whilst thou pity’st my lot,
Secure fool, thou’st forgot
Thou art no more immortal than I! 
H.B.A.

* * * * *

TEA-DRINKING.

While the late Mr. Gifford was at Ashburton, he contracted an acquaintance with a family of that place, consisting of females somewhat advanced in age.  On one occasion he ventured on the perilous exploit of drinking tea with these elderly ladies.  After having swallowed his usual allowance of tea, he found, in spite of his remonstrances to the contrary, that his hostess would by no means suffer him to give up, but persisted in making him drink a most incredible quantity.  “At last,” said Gifford in telling the story, “being really overflooded with tea, I put down my fourteenth cup, and exclaimed, with an air of resolution, ’I neither can nor will drink any more.’  The hostess then seeing she had forced more down my throat than I liked, began to apologize, and added, ’but, dear Mr. Gifford, as you didn’t put your spoon across your cup, I supposed your refusals were nothing but good manners.’”

* * * * *

PRECEDENCE.

An anecdote is told of a captain in the service, since dead, that whilst carrying out a British ambassador to his station abroad, a quarrel arose on the subject of precedency.  High words were exchanged between them on the quarter-deck, when, at length, the ambassador, thinking to silence the captain, exclaimed, “Recollect, sir, I am the representative of his majesty!” “Then, sir,” retorted the captain, “recollect that here I am more than majesty itself.  Can the king seize a fellow up and give him three dozen?” Further argument was useless—­the diplomatist struck.

* * * * *

MARCEL.

A lady who had been a pupil of this distinguished professor of dancing, and remained subsequently his steady and zealous friend, succeeded in obtaining for him from the government a pension for life.  In her great joy at having such a boon to put into his possession, she advanced to him—­the certificate in her hand—­with a hurried and anxious step; when M. Marcel, shocked at the style of presentation, struck the paper out of her hand, demanding if she had forgotten his instructions?  The lady immediately picked it up, and presented it with due form and grace; on which the accomplished Marcel, the enthusiastic professor of his art, respectfully kissed her hand, and with a profound bow exclaimed, “Now I know my own pupil!”