his aunt, an ancient spinster, who was set down by report as a fortune of seven hundred pounds.  Negotiations were actually set on foot, and several preliminary bottles of potteen had been drunk by the parties concerned, when, unfortunately, in the high road to happiness, my poor grandfather caught a fever, and popped off, to the inexpressible grief of the expectant bride, who declared her intention of dying in the virgin state; to which resolution, there being no dissentient voice, it was carried nem. con.

“Thus died the illustrious founder of our family; but happy was it for posterity that the yellow-topped boots did not die along with him; these, with the red waistcoat, the leather breeches, and plated spurs, remained to raise the fortunes of our house to a higher station.  The waistcoat has been long since numbered with the waistcoats before the flood; the buckskins, made of ‘sterner stuff,’ stood the wear and tear of the world for a length of time, but at last were put out of commission; while the boots, more fortunate or tougher than their leathern companions, endured more than forty years of actual service through all the ramifications of our extensive family.  In this time they had suffered many dilapidations; but by the care and ingenuity of the family cobbler, they were always kept in tolerable order, and performed their duty with great credit to themselves, until an unlucky accident deprived me of my old and valued friends.”

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POOR JOHN BULL.

That knowing jockey Sir Robert Peel has stated that the old charger, John Bull, is, from over-feeding, growing restive and unmanageable—­kicking up his heels, and playing sundry tricks extremely unbecoming in an animal of his advanced age and many infirmities.  To keep down this playful spirit, Sir Robert proposes that a new burthen be placed upon his back in the shape of a house-tax, pledging himself that it shall be heavy enough to effect the desired purpose.  Commend us to these Tories—­they are rare fellows for

[Illustration:  BREAKING A HORSE.]

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A STRONG RESEMBLANCE.

Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer has frequently been accused of identifying himself with the heroes of his novels.  His late treatment at Lincoln leaves no doubt of his identity with

[Illustration:  THE DISOWNED.]

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A PRUDENT CHANGE.

“So Lord John Russell is married,” said one of the Carlton Club loungers to Colonel Sibthorp the other morning.  “Yes,” replied that gallant punster; “his Lordship is at length convinced that his talents will be better employed in the management of the Home than the Colonial department.”

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